


Fading Fast

by kitmarlowe, vivelarepublique



Series: Fading Fast [1]
Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: "it's our gay angsty racing child", Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Racing, F/F, Fake Dating, Ridiculous action sequences, one of us watched too much Fast & Furious, the other read too much harumichi fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 17:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12964215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitmarlowe/pseuds/kitmarlowe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivelarepublique/pseuds/vivelarepublique
Summary: When Haruka Tenoh's agent hires her a bodyguard, Michiru Kaioh was not what she was expecting. Whether that's a bad thing or not, she has yet to find out.





	1. Chapter 1

There were few places Haruka Tenoh felt as free and as in-tune with the universe as she was behind the handles of her motorcycle, speeding her way around the track. No matter how loud the crowd roared or the other cyclists tried to close in on her, the rest of the world fell away and it was just Haruka, her bike, and the wind. So when a third of her world was off-kilter, it was world-shaking.

Haruka was making her way around the second-to-last turn of her last lap of the semifinal race, when all of a sudden she noticed her throttle wasn’t responding the way it should, the way it had when she ran her half dozen practice laps before the race. She frowned as she tried to power her bike through the last half lap, the machine giving small, disconcerting shutters beneath her. The racer who had been trailing her by a good quarter lap the entire race took advantage of her bike’s hesitations to zoom ahead of her, and before Haruka could catch up, the other man pulled through the finish line of the final lap, a good three seconds before her.

The crowd continued to cheer as Haruka crossed the finish line and dismounted her bike, but anger had already begun to pulse through her. She should _not_ have lost that race. Haruka glanced over to the winning racer-- Seiya Kou slid off her helmet and flipped long, shiny black hair down to her back.

Haruka could already see the headlines: _HARUKA TENOH FLAMES OUT, CRUSHED BY RISING STAR._

“Better luck next time,” Seiya offered. And if Haruka didn’t already want to punch someone, this woman was _not_ helping.

Haruka shook Seiya’s hand back, because she was nice like that, replying with a tight lipped smile, “Unlike you, I won’t need luck.” She walked away before Seiya had a chance to respond, internally fuming.

She was not so lucky to get away with a clean break though. Halfway to her bike, two sets of bright red hair obscured her vision. The Red Devils they were called in the racing world, although Haruka thought that was laying it on thick. Everything from Eugeal’s red outfit and bright red bike, to her manager, Kaorinite’s open red dress screamed garish and _notice me!_ Which, of course, the racing world did-- and how could they not with the excess of motorcycle ads Eugeal appeared in?

(Haruka tried not to think about the awful yogurt commercials she, herself, had appeared in. For the money, not the lifetime supply of yogurt.)

“Ah, Haruka.” Eugeal shifted her motorcycle helmet to under her right arm, cocking her head, a slight predatory smirk upon her lips. “I just wanted to say congratulations on second place. Not as good as first, but definitely better than my third.”

Haruka tried not to grind her teeth. Setsuna told her it was bad for her, and she _tried_ to listen to what her manager said. “Thanks,” she said, instead. “Third place still gets a good amount of cash though, isn’t that what matters to you two?”

Setsuna also told Haruka that she shouldn’t provoke people-- Haruka never said she was actually good at listening to her.

Eugeal’s smirk slid off her face into an irate pout that Haruka might have found cute on anyone else. As she moved to open her mouth angrily, Kaorinite took a step forward, doing her best attempt to tower over Haruka. In her 3-inch heels, she came just to eye level. “My, you make that out to be such a bad thing, Haruka,” she said. “Especially when you must be making _quite_ a bit of cash with all your first place wins.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Haruka said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to stop trying to place first.”

“So you’re in it for the thrill of the race? That’s noble of you,” said Eugeal.

“I’m not going to waste my time explaining it. Excuse me.” Haruka shouldered past the two, and marched off towards the mechanics cleaning up her bike.

“Somebody messed with my throttle,” she said, barely restraining her anger. “And seeing as none of you managed to catch it before the race, I’m going to take my bike and do the repairs on it myself.” One of the mechanics looked like he was about to respond, but another older mechanic punched him on the arm.

“Whatever you say, Ms. Tenoh,” the second mechanic said. With a bow, the mechanics retreated to work on a less disgruntled racer’s bike.

Haruka began to examine her bike, and was so engrossed in the machine she didn’t notice her manager coming up to see her.

“Haruka? Is everything alright?” Setsuna said. “Second place is still very good, and...”

“Well it shouldn't have been second place!” Haruka snapped. She sighed, running her hands through her cropped blonde hair. “I’m sorry Setsuna. Someone messed with my bike. That’s the only reason I lost.” She continued to turn her screwdriver, loosening the panel on her bike. As she did, a rusted part fell loose out onto the ground, revealing other parts of the vehicle covered in a thick, black gunk. Her brow furrowed and Setsuna kneeled down next to her to see the damage done.

“That certainly doesn’t look right,” Setsuna said.

Haruka bit back a,  _"ya think?"_ and shook her head, fists clenched. “No. That’s the last time I let those buffoons anywhere _near_ my bike.”

Setsuna nodded, placing a hand on Haruka’s tense shoulder. “I’ll get it fixed. You just go back home and rest.”

Haruka huffed, but nodded in agreement. “Thanks, Setsuna.” She attempted a smile at her manager, but it came out more a forced grimace. The other woman removed her hand from Haruka’s shoulder.

“I’ll make some calls and see what I can do.” Haruka gave a curt nod, her brain already elsewhere. She gave a wave goodbye to Setsuna, and soon she was flying down the coast in her own, untampered sports car, until long past sunset.

* * *

After a few days of driving around in her sports car, Haruka began to feel the itch under her skin that only riding on her bike could calm. She felt confined to the two seats, unable to feel the wind fully on her body, the adrenaline coursing through her, like it did when she was on the open road.

Finally though, the day had come: Setsuna had told her the repairs were come and to come to her office to speak. It was unusual for Setsuna not to just call and update Haruka, but given the unusual circumstances of the bike’s malfunctioning, Haruka supposed it was warranted. She shot off a quick response to the woman, settled on her black leather jacket, grabbed her keys, and headed out. The sooner she was back on her bike, the better.

Setsuna’s office was in a sleek skyscraper downtown, and the marble tile of the lobby made Haruka’s boots echo as she approached the elevator. Entering the agency’s office, she gave the receptionist a wink. “Hey, Hotaru, shouldn’t you be in school?”

The teenager pouted, crossing her arms. “School doesn’t start for another couple weeks, Haruka!”

“And until then your mom is gonna work you to the bone, I’m sure.” Haruka grinned.

Hotaru rolled her eyes, turning back to the computer in front of her. “Just go in, Mom’s expecting you.”

Haruka ruffled the girl’s hair affectionately before heading back towards Setsuna’s office, ignoring her irritated yelp. She paused as she swore she heard multiple voices coming from the room. She knocked: “Setsuna, it’s me!”

“Come on in, Haruka!” Setsuna called. With a shrug, Haruka opened the door, only to find that there was another woman sitting in the office with Setsuna.

Not dissimilar to Setsuna, she wore a crisp suit jacket, though hers was cropped to the waist and of a light pink, complimenting her seafoam hair, which came down in gentle waves just over her shoulders. A skirt and pair of heels finished the ensemble, the skirt just short enough to give Haruka a nice view of her long legs, which she crossed. The two’s eyes met briefly before Setsuna spoke again.

“Haruka, this is Michiru Kaioh. She’s your new bodyguard.” Haruka blinked. Then she blinked again.

“Bodyguard. My new bodyguard,” Haruka repeated.

“We confirmed that someone definitely sabotaged your bike at the last race. You were lucky to finish the race at all, let alone without any injuries. So until we figure out who is behind it, I thought it best to have Miss Kaioh help keep you safe.” Setsuna paused a second, sensing Haruka’s bewilderment. “I assure you she comes highly recommended.”

As someone who had been time and time again judged unfairly for her appearance, Haruka tried not to do the same, but this (admittedly gorgeous) woman was not exactly what came to mind when she thought of a bodyguard. Haruka had at least four inches on her in height, even taking into account the heels she was wearing. Haruka tried not to raise her eyebrows at her manager as Michiru Kaioh rose neatly from her seat to face her. Before Haruka could right her skeptical expression, Michiru held out a hand to the other woman.

 _Even her wrists are delicate-looking,_ Haruka thought. No sooner had she taken the woman’s hand, then she found herself staring up at Michiru, the woman’s hair tickling the sides of her face as Haruka lay flat on her back, the wind knocked out of her. Haruka blinked again this time, in a different kind of shock, a mixture of disbelief and something else not entirely unpleasant.

Slowly recovering from her shock, Haruka pushed herself off the ground to look up; for a moment, she was so captivated by the deep blue eyes, she barely even noticed the hand Michiru was offering her. Haruka, licking her lips, bounced back to her feet without assistance, now looking down at the shorter woman.

“I trust you now see I am more than capable of acting as your bodyguard,” Michiru said, pink lips quirked in an almost smile, eyes never leaving Haruka’s.

“I trust you are capable of _many_ things.”

Setsuna gave a bemused cough; Haruka startled-- she had almost forgotten Setsuna was there. “Regardless of how capable Miss Kaioh is, I still don’t see why I need a bodyguard. We know there’s someone sabotaging my bike, so I keep an eye on and we make sure the bike is good to go before competitions. I don’t need someone tracking my every move.” Haruka to read Michiru’s expression as she spoke, but her cool demeanor was borderline steely.

“I knew you’d be...less than thrilled by the idea. But until we know the depth and nature of the sabotage, your safety on and off the track requires outside support. Of course, if you wanted to cancel your upcoming races, it would be a lot easier to–”

“No!” Haruka interjected automatically. “I...” She sighed, pushing her hand back through her hair. “I’ll deal with it. It’s only temporary, right?”

“Just as long as the issue takes to be resolved, Setsuna assured me,” Michiru said. The very picture of grace, she proceeded to give a polite smile and bow to her employer. “I’ll be in touch in with you later, Ms. Meioh.” She then looked over at Haruka, and gave her a small smile. “Ms. Tenoh.”

“Haruka.” She felt her face flush despite herself. “I don’t care for honorifics. And we’ll be spending a lot of time together, anyway. It’ll make things easier.”

“Haruka it is then,” Michiru said, her and Haruka tried not to pay too much attention to the sparkle in her eye before she turned to leave the office.

Setsuna and Haruka stood in silence for a moment after the door closed quietly behind Michiru.

“Sometimes you’re _too_ good of an agent, you know that? A bodyguard? Really?” Haruka said.

“You didn’t complain nearly as much as I thought you would. I had a whole list of retorts I didn’t even get to try. I’m almost disappointed.”

Haruka crossed her arms and gave a small huff. “This lasts as long as it takes to work out this whole sabotage thing, no longer.”

Setsuna nodded. “You have my word. Though I’m sure you wouldn’t mind having Miss Kaioh around a little longer...”

“I’ll talk to you later, Setsuna,” Haruka said firmly, leaving before the woman could press the topic of her new bodyguard any further.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, a small voice in her head teased) for her, Michiru was still in the lobby, chatting with Hotaru.

“Don’t you have homework to do?”

Hotaru turned in her swivel chair to look at Haruka, “Miss Kaioh was just telling me about her time in high school!”

“Oh really?” Haruka raised an eyebrow.

“Just telling her to keep studying hard.” Michiru flipped her hair in a way that would’ve seemed haughty on other women, but she somehow made seem natural. “It’ll be more useful than she thinks.”

“Even algebra?”

“Even algebra.”

Hotaru groaned and Haruka gave a laugh. “Keep at it, Firefly.”

“Good luck, Hotaru,” Michiru smiled.

Exiting the office, the two then found themselves waiting for the elevator, Haruka restraining herself from stealing glances at the other woman. She would have plenty, too much, time to get to know her in the days, or, god forbid, weeks, to follow.

“Michiru,” the other woman spoke, snapping Haruka out of her thoughts, and causing her to snap her eyes over to meet hers.

She gulped. “What?”

“If you’re going to have me call you Haruka, you should just call me Michiru.” The corner of her lip curved in a sly smile. “‘It’ll make things easier.’”

Haruka wanted to be annoyed at Michiru parroting her words back at her, but she couldn’t think of a coherent response with Michiru’s eyes on her. Instead, she gave a small nod of agreement, turning her gaze to the elevator, which opened. The two stepped in.

“If you’re free now, we can talk about more about this arrangement. I can answer any questions you might have for me,” Michiru continued as Haruka punched the button for the ground floor.

Haruka’s felt a flash of annoyance at the bodyguard’s tone, her coolness only serving to rile her up more. ‘This arrangement,’ as if it were a musical composition or rearranging of furniture, and not a complete intrusion into her life. The reality of the whole situation was finally beginning to settle in, but Haruka merely shrugged. “May as well get it over with. Figure this won’t be for long anyway.” She let the annoyance seep into her tone, and she avoided meeting Michiru's gaze again. _This is all only a temporary inconvenience,_ she told herself, uncertain if the thought was reassuring or disappointed.


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow, they ended up at a coffee bar, Michiru’s hands clutching a cup of tea with long, dainty fingers, and Haruka biting into a slightly stale, but warm, chocolate chip scone, which helped temper her annoyance. Michiru raised the cup, hooded blue eyes unabashedly observing Haruka from over it. Haruka took another vicious bite from out of her scone, still irritated by her poise—and yet, also incredibly attracted to it. Haruka’s eyes drifted to Michiru’s fingers, reminded of when they had grasped her wrist—cool, and firm. She couldn’t help but wonder what else they could do. It was all very frustrating.

Haruka finished the scone off, feeling even more exasperated and restless than she had before her bike was fixed.  _ Focus,  _ she reminded herself, leaning forward in her seat, head cradled in her hand. “So,” she drawled out.

Michiru’s face betrayed nothing, a pleasant smile lingering across it. “So,” she agreed. “I usually like to set boundaries before going any farther.”

That wasn’t quite what she expected. “Boundaries?” Haruka said. 

“Boundaries. Like—I will not follow you into the bathroom or be present while you shower. I’ll leave you at your door to your apartment every day, but I will not enter it after night time, unless something very precarious happens. If you stay in your apartment for the entire day, I will be there, but will never enter your  personal bedroom, unless required to do my job properly. If you go on a date—”

“Since when am I going on a date?” Haruka interrupted.

“A famous racer not going on any dates? My, my. Must be quite a dry season.” Michiru sipped again at her cup of tea, and Haruka had to force herself not to flush. “As I was saying. If you go on a date, I will be discreetly present, a few tables away, and ensure that your date isn’t aware I am there.”

Haruka lowered her voice. “And if we go on a date? Will you be present then?”

To Haruka’s chagrin, she didn’t even blink. “I try not to date while on a job,” she said.

Haruka hummed, unsure if she was disappointed or relieved. It was, of course, a horrible idea—one Haruka would likely have broken instantly if the situation was flipped. But Michiru seemed like a woman who stuck to her guns.    
  
“Does this all sound reasonable?” Michiru asked.    
  
Haruka nodded, words lost, mind still stuck on the dating idea.    
  
“I’m sure we can discuss any problems as they arise,” she continued, smiling as the waiter slid the check on their table. “Now, aren’t you going to pay for that?”    
  
“Right.” Haruka straightened when she realized what Michiru had said. “Now wait a minute! I never agreed to pay for your food!”    
  
Michiru shrugged, smile much wider than her initial pleasant one. “But I’m just a poor bodyguard, and you’re a famous racer. Doesn’t it make sense?”   
  
Based on her clothes, Michiru was anything but poor. Still, Haruka found herself opening the check with little argument. “It’s like a continuous date with no payoff,” Haruka muttered, mostly to herself.    
  
“I assure you, with my actual dates there is quite a bit of payoff.” With an unreadable, almost absent-minded expression, Michiru shrugged back into her jacket. “I’ll be waiting outside.”    
  
And with that Michiru swept away, leaving Haruka gaping.    
  
God damn it Setsuna. 

* * *

The truth of it was Haruka would have been fine if she didn’t go in so confident. Confident that Michiru would be less than a blip on her radar. Confident that she would be gone in two weeks, after the final race, and Haruka would never think about her again.

Haruka liked being confident. That’s who she  _ was.  _ She was confident in her racing skills, confident in her people skills, confident in her dating skills, and  _ especially  _ confident in her bedroom skills. Anything she tried she was usually good at.

Yet, confidence, as Setsuna liked to remind her, often turned into arrogance. And therein was her downfall. Because truly in her arrogance, Haruka had stumbled into a person she couldn’t fool.

Monday, had been normal. Haruka had gone to the track, cruised the obstacle course, went to the gym. No big deal. Tuesday was more of the same-- another practice run and a quick interview about the upcoming race next week. Michiru was always there, of course, in the stands, seemingly focused on whichever book she had been reading that day, but Haruka  _ swore _ she could feel the bodyguard’s eyes on her back, even all the way from the track. (To shake the feeling off, she sped up, the wind caressing her hair, beating at her hands. But not even the wind could shake Michiru’s gaze.) When Haruka almost crashed from nerves, she figured taking a break would be… helpful.

So Wednesday, she took the day off and stayed home. Honestly, Haruka wasn’t sure what she had been trying to accomplish. Some part of her just wanted to see Michiru more  _ human _ . To finally see her break that pleasant facade, and look just as ridiculous as Haruka had been feeling this entire time.

Of course, nothing happened. They sat in nearly complete silence, Michiru reading, Haruka hiding in various rooms of her apartment, flicking the TV on, off, on off, opening a book up, closing it, opening another. Michiru occasionally would comment— _ “my, my, trading Austen for Dickinson? Definitely easier, but lacking luster.” _ —but otherwise, simply observing with a vague amused smile, as Haruka slowly paced back and forth, feeling caged, even though she could leave at any time. To make matters worse, Haruka couldn’t get Michiru’s  _ damned  _ perfume scent out of her apartment.

(It smelled a bit like the soft, salt air of the ocean, in case anyone wanted to know. Haruka sure didn’t.)

On Thursday, she took action. Well  _ an  _ action: she called Usagi.

This was not so much a mistake, as it was a disaster. It started innocently enough:

“Hey, kitten,” Haruka said when Usagi picked up. On the balcony chair next to her, Michiru raised two eyebrows, clearly surprised by the nickname. Haruka shot her a smirk, trying to regain some of the ground she lost yesterday. Because Haruka was  _ good  _ with women, damn it. Not that she wanted to be with Usagi—but still. Haruka had a reputation to maintain.

“Ah, Haruka!” Usagi greeted at her loudest, cheeriest voice that she was sure even Michiru winced at when she heard. Then— a loud crash, and a shriek. Haruka leaned on her balcony, confused, certain she could hear several voices squabbling in the background. Usagi laughed nervously into the phone: “Juuust one moment Haruka!” Then, slightly quieter, but still loud enough to break Haruka’s ears, because it  _ was _ Usagi: “Oi! Don’t break my bunny plates!!” There was a brief silence, a crackle, and then Usagi again laughing: “Haruka! Sorry, sorry! Just the cats,” she said.

_ Cats?  _ Haruka had never known Luna or Artemis to cause that much noise. “Are you free for lunch, Usagi?” Haruka asked instead.

More crashes. Clearly distracted, Usagi repeated: “Lunch?” More crashes. “Lunch sounds…  _ great! _ Yeah, let’s do lunch. Now?”

“Usagi, it’s 10:00,” Haruka said.

“Okay, brunch! Let’s get brunch!”

Haruka glanced at Michiru, who seemed entranced with her book, twirling a lock of blue hair around her right finger-- well, Haruka supposed she didn’t have any  _ actual  _ plans. “Sure, let’s meet in 20 at the Crown.”

“Gr- _ reat _ ,” said Usagi, dragging out the syllable. “Bye now!”

She hung up before Haruka could even say goodbye.

Haruka scrubbed a hand through her hair, wondering what she had just done. And hell, how was she even going to explain  _ Michiru  _ to Usagi? Usagi was too nosy to let it go, and she had met all of Haruka’s friends already. Hell, Usagi had even met her parents, back when Haruka had invited her to one of their society balls (an Epic Disaster, in true Usagi fashion—Haruka had watched the life-size ice sculpture crash with glee as the party guests ran, terribly glad she had brought Usagi along). Usagi may never have scored higher than a 70 percent on her math tests in high school, even  _ with _ Haruka’s help, but she was surprisingly perceptive.

And it wasn’t Usagi figuring out Michiru was her bodyguard that concerned her, though that was embarrassing enough. It was…  _ everything else _ . Even if Haruka didn’t know what everything else meant.

Thirty minutes later, Haruka and Michiru were sitting across from each other, Michiru again nursing a cup of tea, Haruka, a coffee. Usagi was running late, of course. Haruka wouldn't have expected anything different.

“How do you know Usagi?” Michiru asked.

Haruka dropped her head into her hand. “She pushed me out of the way of a moving car a few years back,” she said. “Pretty dramatic when you think about it.”

Michiru lips twitched. “Sounds like you already had your own personal bodyguard, before I even came along,” she said.

Haruka snorted. “Believe me, Usagi couldn’t actually hurt a fly. Speak of the devil.” Haruka nodded, as a short blonde with too much hair and too much limbs rolled in the room, a sudden tornado, yelling, “ _ Haruukaaa!” _

Suddenly, Haruka’s face was full of long blonde hair, arms flung around her neck.

“Usagi, you’re choking me,” Haruka said through a mouthful of hair.

“Oh, sorry.” Usagi detached herself and slid into her seat more properly. Finally, she noticed Michiru. “Oh, hi!” She flashed the brightest smile, bowing her head. “I’m Usagi, Haruka’s only friend!”

“Michiru, a pleasure,” said Michiru, as at the same time Haruka snapped,  “That’s  _ not  _ true,”

“Setsuna doesn’t count, Haruka,” Usagi said, “She’s your manager, and Hotaru’s 16.”

“I’ve known Setsuna since college,” Haruka said, exasperated.   

Usagi shrugged. “Two of my friends are coming by the way, they’re just finding parking—oh there they are!”

Haruka’s eyes were immediately drawn to the person on the right. As their eyes met, she abruptly stood:  _ “You _ .”

Seiya Kou adopted a smirk. “I told you she wouldn't be happy,” she said to Usagi.

“What are you doing with  _ her _ ?” Haruka demanded, essentially ignoring the exasperated looking man, who Haruka couldn’t immediately place. To her horror, Seiya didn’t respond, and instead slid into the seat next to Michiru, while the man grabbed a chair and dragged it to the end of the table. Michiru offered a hand to both of them, introducing herself politely.

“Michiru,” she said.

“Seiya.” And making a big show of it, Seiya took her hand and  _ placed her lips to it. _

She apparently blacked out for a minute, because the next thing Haruka knew, Usagi was poking Haruka in the side, and whispering, “Haruka? Haruka, are you okay?”

“M’fine,” Haruka grounded out, turning irritated eyes to the still unknown man. Forcing herself to calm down, she adopted a  _ cool _ tone. Icy cool. Colder than ice. In fact, sub zero cold. And that wasn’t accounting for wind chill. “And who is this?”

The man bowed his head. “Mamoru Chiba, pleased to meet you both.”

“We’ve been dating for three months,” Usagi said, placing her hand on his, and the two shared the most _sickly_ , _cutest,_ _awful_ stare that Haruka had ever seen in her life.

To her surprise, Seiya shot Mamoru a dripping glare.

Suddenly, Haruka understood the crashing sounds in Usagi’s apartment so much better. And suddenly, she liked Mamoru  _ so much more.  _ She leaned forward, purring, “How interesting. Do tell, how did you two met?”

While Usagi launched into the thrilling tale (with the occasional,  _ “Usako, that’s not how it happened, there weren’t any dragons, _ ” thrown in from Mamoru), Haruka watched in absolute delight as Seiya continued to emanate despair.

Haruka wasn’t a horrible person, truly. But having a one-up on her rival, as unrelated to motorcycle racing as it was, felt  _ great. _ She felt some of the cool that she had lost over the past few days return, and she relaxed into her seat, nodding along in the appropriate places to Usagi’s extended epic tale (which pretty much boiled down to she spilled coffee on Mamoru’s research paper and swore she would rewrite it for him, and the ensuing awkwardness when it became clear Usagi had absolutely no head for English literature translations. But Usagi had a special talent that made the story sound like both a space adventure and epic fantasy entwined into one).  

“And that’s exactly how it happened!” Usagi said cheerfully, clutching Mamoru’s arm, nearly dragging him out of his seat. He looked surprisingly used to it after only three months. Most of Usagi’s dates had been taken aback by the pure strength she managed to trap in one noodle limb. Mamoru barely looked fazed.

“Not exactly. But… close enough,” Mamoru conceded, as Usagi released him back to his seat.

Haruka hummed, completely content to let Usagi move onto another topic to babble about. Seiya, however, took this lasp to get back at Haruka. “And you, two,” she said, leaning on her hand, half turned toward Michiru. “How did you meet?”

Oh  _ fuck _ . All of Haruka’s contentment vanished. She hadn’t thought this far ahead  _ at all— _ and she couldn’t tell Seiya of all people that her bike had been sabotaged. That would just make Seiya think she had the upper hand. And she couldn’t articulate a story like Usagi. Panicking, Haruka caught Michiru’s eye, desperately hoping that the bodyguard already had a story in mind.

“Setsuna introduced us,” Michiru said, calmly.

For the first time in a week, Haruka praised Michiru’s calm demeanor.

“Hm? A blind date?” Seiya said.

For the second time that day, Haruka’s brain crashed.  _ Date.  _ Seiya thought they were dating.

Luckily, Michiru didn’t so much as blink. “No, we’re just friends,” she said.

“Ah.” Seiya sounded quite disappointed. Less competition for Usagi, Haruka thought savagely.

“And Usagi? Where did you pick up  _ this  _ lowlife?” Haruka said, forcing the conversation back on Seiya.

Usagi laughed, scratching the back of her head. “I’ve known Seiya since high school,” she said.

“What?? And you never told me!? I’ve known you for five years!”

“Well, I didn’t want you to get mad!” Usagi protested. “And I didn’t know you were rivals until  _ last _ year, but then I felt bad about lying to you, so I wanted to tell you, and Seiya was hanging out with us—” At this, Seiya and Mamoru exchanged uncomfortable glances. Haruka would have killed to have seen how that had gone.  “—so  _ I figured _ that I would just bring Seiya to lunch today, and now you know, and we’re all friends, right!” She beamed at the entire group.

Only Michiru nodded as if it that made any sense. The other three just stared, and Haruka hated that she was on the same page with  _ Seiya _ , but good lord.

“Well, I think it was a lovely thought, Usagi,” Michiru said. “Honesty, after all, is the most valued trait among friendships.”

Haruka nearly snorted at that—after all, Michiru’s entire job was based on lying. But Usagi, not privy to this information,  _ sparkled, _ grabbing Michiru’s hands and saying, with more sincerity than necessary, “Michiru, that was  _ so  _ true.”

Michiru blinked, then gave a small smile. “Thank you, Usagi. Though I’m afraid I can’t take full credit for it,” she admitted, gently detaching her hand from Usagi. “My violin professor used to say it. Along with ‘hatred is the first step to friendship.’ But I think he may have taken that one from a fortune cookie when he had drank too much.”

As Usagi nodded emphatically in agreement, Haruka forced herself not to grind her teeth too loudly-- she didn’t realize Setsuna had also paid for a friendship coach when she hired a bodyguard.

“Oh!” Usagi gasped suddenly, as if struck with a miraculous revelation. “Then, Haruka and Seiya must be close to friends, right!” Usagi looked between them, beaming proudly.

Seiya nearly choked on her drink. “Friends?”

“ _ Friends _ ,” Usagi stressed, blue eyes wide.

Haruka didn’t mean to snort audibly—but she did. Seiya whirled on her. “What,” Seiya drawled. “Afraid of being friends with someone that beats you consistently?”

_ What. _ Haruka’s mind went to white and she barely registered Michiru’s hand on her arm as she stood, or Mamoru’s alarmed face. “Excuse me? You’ve only beaten me three times.”

“And I could do it again.”

“I  _ sincerely _ doubt that.”

“Prove it.”

“I will, when I beat you this weekend.”

“Oh?” Seiya leaned her head on her hand. “Too afraid you couldn’t do it now off the track?”

Haruka recognized that this was, perhaps, childish of her. A challenge that she should ignore, as an adult, and  _ especially  _ in front of Michiru.

“Outside, now.” Haruka snapped.

Seiya smiled, triumphant. With Michiru’s eyes boring into Haruka’s back and Usagi fretting quietly behind them, Haruka felt like she had just made a dumb mistake.  

But there was no turning back now.

* * *

The ocean raged in Michiru’s ears. 

Of course, in this parking lot, there was no actual ocean to hear. But somehow, that only made her even more aware of it. 

Michiru had grown up on a small island in the outskirts of Okinawa **,** only steps away from the ocean, and had spent nearly every moment staring out at the sea. Wishing it could take her away. Wondering if she stepped in, if it would sweep her away, and pull her down under until she found adventure in another life.

Today, watching Haruka and Seiya glare at each in front of their two cars, a part of Michiru’s heart ached for the ocean again. The quiet simplicity that wiped all sound, all thought away. She wished to be back in her parent’s house, far away from this job.    
  
As Haruka entered the car, Michiru’s first thought was that she didn’t get paid enough for this, and Setsuna had paid her quite well. Heaving a sigh, Michiru hopped into the car as well, not even bothering to open the car door.    
  
Haruka whirled her head around. “What are you doing?” she snapped.    
  
Michiru often thought it was her curse that all her charges were so volatile. She supposed it came with the nature of her job, but somehow Haruka took it to a whole other level. “I can’t protect you from a parking lot,” she said, keeping her tone cool.    
  
“You didn’t come on the track with me earlier!”   
  
“That was a track. This is a street, full of busy cars. Do you truly think I’m going to let you go drag racing without backup?”    
  
“So, what?” Haruka’s stare challenged her, hazel eyes unwavering. “You’ll injure yourself just to save me?”   
  
“That’s what I’m being paid for,” Michiru said.    
  
Haruka held her gaze one more moment, jaw clenched. Finally, she looked away, and Michiru felt like she could breathe again. “I don’t get it,” Haruka muttered.    
  
“What?” Michiru managed to force the word out past her daze. She somehow had never had a charge who was so intense.    
  
“You risk your own life to protect others. But what about your life? Who’s risking their life for you?”    
  
Michiru blinked, taken aback by this newfound concern., She found herself raising her gaze back to hazel eyes as Haruka’s hands clutched the steering wheel—   
  
And then the light turned green, and Haruka slammed her foot on the pedal. The force threw Michiru backwards, hair obscuring her vision for a second as the wind whipped around them. Of course Haruka would have a convertible.   
  
There was barely time for thinking, as Haruka jerked the wheel left, passing just in front of a sad black Mitsubishi. Michiru’s eyes were drawn to the speedometer: 35, 40, 45, 50. As it rose and rose, Haruka weaved through traffic with the cocky confidence only one so young, and so dismissive, so defiant, of death could.    
  
But Michiru knew Death, and she could practically see it following them, in a black sports car.    
  
But no, it was just Seiya pulling up to be right next to them. Haruka glanced to the left, snarling, as Seiya drifted just an inch away. Haruka tightened her hand around the steering wheel. “Bastard.”    
  
The speedometer pushing 65, Haruka forced herself a row over.    
  
“Up there.” The words came from Michiru, but she wasn’t sure why.    
  
Haruka whipped her head over.    
  
“There’s an opening,” Michiru said.    
  
“What?”    
  
“There’s no cars up there!”   
  
“Why are you telling me that?”

“I’m trying to help!”

“You’re my bodyguard, not my racing instructor!”

Haruka swerved in the opposite direction that Michiru had pointed out, crossing four different lanes of traffic. The sounds of cars honking blurred into one large cacophony and all Michiru could do was focus on the speedometer rising up and  _ up _ and  _ up _ . Michiru had resigned herself to the fact that they were probably going to crash, just as Haruka spun the wheel, car shooting to the right as the light turned red, bringing them back to the parking lot in a record five minutes.

“ _ Fuck. _ ” Haruka slammed the door shut, crossing over to where Seiya was already standing by her car, Usagi and Mamoru both moving to meet her, as well as another blonde woman that Michiru knew was not there before.

“Well, that was fun Tenoh! And look,” Seiya gestured to the other blonde, who waved cheerily. “We even had certified witnesses.”

Haruka barely deigned to glance at Seiya. “Minako. Looking for fake stories again?”

Minako gasped theatrically, grasping her chest. “You wound me, Haruka!” she declared. “Haven’t you missed me?”

“As much as I miss the plague,” Haruka said, voice so cold, even Michiru was taken aback. During Michiru’s short time with her, she had never seen Haruka  _ mean _ . Sarcastic, sure. Bristly, but in a charming way. But mean? No.

Michiru wasn’t sure she liked this side of her charge. Frowning, she moved to open her mouth—

“Haruka,” Usagi cut in first. “Don’t talk to Minako like that. I invited her for lunch before you and Seiya started racing. And you know— winning isn’t everything.” She tossed a look at Haruka and Seiya, both of whom had the decency to look abashed. “I thought you two could put that aside, but I guess not.”

“Oh, Usagi, don’t— _ shit _ .” Haruka tugged at the front of her hair as Usagi flounced away. She glanced over at Mamoru, who graced her with a  _ chilling  _ stare, before following Usagi’s lead.

If Michiru had been hired to give her opinion, she would say Haruka deserved it. As it was, she was only hired to protect Haruka from any bodily harm. So she kept her mouth shut.

Still, Usagi’s words seemed to have done the trick, and Haruka turned back to Minako, scratching the back of her head. “Sorry, Mina. This one—” Haruka jerked her head at Seiya. “—just gets under my skin.”

Minako either recovered easily, or simply didn't care. Batting large, baby blue eyes, she said, “Can I quote that?”

Haruka let out a short laugh. “Sure. And you can quote this too.” Now, she turned toward Seiya, expression determined. “I don’t care that you won today, because you’re going down at the final races.”

“Well,” Seiya said, cocking her head. “Fourth time's the charm, right, Haruka?”

Haruka clenched her hand, but said nothing. Possibly sensing that she had the upper hand, Seiya opened her car door, sliding her sunglasses back on.

“See ya, lovebirds.” Seiya shut the door and skidded away cheerily, even as all the color left Haruka’s face and Minako Aino’s eyes grew wider than her face.

_ Oh dear,  _ Michiru thought. This could complicate things.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, vivelarepublique here with the update this time!! I accept the blame for this fic with glee, and wanted to thank everyone who has commented and left kudos so far!! I'm so glad y'all are enjoying reading this fic as much as we are enjoying writing it. 
> 
> I had way too much fun with what I wrote for this section and can't wait to share what happens next time!! It'll be a far longer update that this, so hang on for the ride...
> 
> If you wanna talk to either of us beyond commenting here, you can find me on tumblr also at vivelarepublique, and on twitter (where I am far more active) at abbysayswords. kitmarlowe can also be found on twitter at haroved. You can see us dragging each other in real time on there! Again, thank you for all of your support, feel free to keep commenting, and if you celebrate, have a very Merry Christmas, and if you don't, have a wonderful weekend!

Armed with multiple newspapers and magazines and a grim set to her jaw, Haruka, accompanied as ever by Michiru, arrived to Setsuna’s office early Friday morning. Leaving Michiru outside with Hotaru, Haruka threw the copies down on Setsuna’s desk, followed by two cups of coffee. Without preamble, she said, “Minako Aino thinks we’re dating.”

Setsuna blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Don’t just stare at it!” Haruka groaned, rubbing a hand over her face, sliding into the seat.

“Haruka.” Setsuna eyed the first headline on the sports page _RACING RIVALS RUMBLE OFF THE TRACK._ “Why were you drag racing Seiya Kou in broad daylight?”

“That’s not the point, Setsuna,” Haruka said, waving her hand dismissively. “Look down.”

The subhead in bold: _RIVALS IN BOTH LOVE AND RACING?_

Setsuna, unperturbed, ignored this. “You _know_ that you could get your license revoked if you crash outside of a race, right?”

“Setsuna, when have I ever crashed my car?”

“Haruka, it won’t even matter that your bike is fixed if you get hurt off the track, or if they take away your racing privileges. And if you had died, what then?”

“ _Setsuna_ . Forget about the license, that’s never going to happen. This in the paper, it’s all over the gossip blogs online. Some of the _American_ blogs have even picked it up. Setsuna, forget about the drag racing — ” Haruka snatched the newspaper back from Setsuna, who was still muttering to herself about car injuries and the possibility of killing pedestrians. Setsuna shot her a _look_ , clearly unimpressed, but Haruka forged forward: “They’re all saying Michiru and I are _dating_.”

“And this is more important than you dying how?” Setsuna said.

“Setsuna!”

To her surprise, Setsuna laughed. And not just one of those dignified chuckles, or little giggles she sometimes gave Usagi. _No_ , this was a full belly laugh, her head thrown back, shoulders slumped, hair falling all every which way. She couldn’t remember the last time Setsuna had laughed like that. But when she didn’t stop, Haruka protested: “Setsuna! It’s not that funny! This is an actual problem!”

Finally, Setsuna calmed down. “Oh, Haruka. I’m sorry. I just don’t see why you’re so upset about a gossip journalist. It’s not like Michiru and you are _actually_ dating.” An awful glimmer of mischief crossed Setsuna’s face, and Haruka ignored the flush growing across her face.

“No, but isn’t this bad for my career or image, or reputation or _something_?”

“Haruka, you’ve always been in gossip blogs for dating one woman or another. This isn’t any different,” Setsuna said.

“I don’t think I need a bodyguard anymore.”

“Haruka,” Setsuna said, exasperated. “How does that even make sense?”

“A bodyguard shouldn’t be drawing _extra_ attention to me,” Haruka said.

“Actually, this is probably better cover than any of us could ever have hoped for,” Setsuna said.

Haruka tried to think of an argument, and failed. Floundering, she adjusted her angle: “Where did you even find this woman? What do you even know about her? You know she just _sits_ there and watches me all day--”

“Almost like it’s her job,” Setsuna said, dryly.

“And I don’t know a _damned_ thing about her except that she drinks tea like a fish and--” Haruka stopped herself before she mentioned the perfume (the smell of which she _still_ couldn’t get out of her apartment). She cleared her throat: “My point is, it doesn’t seem fair that she knows practically everything about me. I bet you even gave her a _file_ on me.”

Setsuna didn’t even bother to look guilty. She leaned forward, hands clasped. “To answer your first question, she came highly recommended by a colleague of mine. Secondly, I’m _paying_ her to keep you out of danger, which you seem very hellbent on getting into.” At this, she gestured to the papers again. “And have you considered, potentially, asking her about herself?”

Even if Setsuna had a point there, Haruka didn’t want to acknowledge it. Talking with Michiru outside of the occasional traded sarcasm or request to pass the remote seemed somehow daunting. Maybe if her eyes weren’t so damn _blue_ Haruka wouldn’t lose the ability to put words together whenever she tried to converse with the woman.

“Besides,” Setsuna added, “This will give her the perfect cover for when you go to the finals ceremony tomorrow night.”

“What.”

“You didn’t expect Michiru to lurk outside, did you? I put her on the guest list as your plus-one when I first hired her.”

“Of course you did.” It was as if Setsuna knew this was going to happen; Haruka did always suspect the woman was psychic.

“Just give it one more week,” Setsuna said. “I have a feeling by then we might know who sabotaged your bike.”

Haruka left Setsuna’s office, feeling a little ashamed of how she had acted. Obviously, it wasn’t Michiru’s fault that this had been picked up by the gossip blogs. She doubted Michiru would go out of her way to create a _fake_ relationship. No one would do that, no matter how dedicated they were to their job. It would probably complicate any future relationships, and she was sure Michiru would have several of those.

As Michiru and Haruka bid Hotaru goodbye, Haruka resolved to simply pull herself together and get through the next two weeks.

* * *

Haruka would always complain about the formal events Setsuna coerced her into going to, because seriously, what about motorcycle racing said _black tie?_ But she did admit she filled out a suit nicely. She stood in front of her bedroom mirror, deftly tying her thin silk necktie. With a final tug, she nodded to herself in the mirror, satisfied. She exited her bedroom to the living room of the apartment, which was conspicuously absent of Michiru. In the last week, she had gotten quite used to stumbling out of her bedroom to find Michiru sitting (with perfect posture of course) on the end of the couch, a cup of tea or a book in hand. Her makeup routine was probably more time consuming than Haruka’s, but they had plenty of time to get ready.

Haruka flopped on the couch, and began to wonder absently what this ceremony would hold. The photographers would initially swarm Eugeal and Kaorinite, who would certainly be there wearing some gaudy dresses. She’d still have to answer some questions, but then she could grab some wine, although there would never be enough of it, especially as Seiya would definitely be there, still riding the high  of her win in the drag race. Setsuna had already told her not to offer comment on the race, but as for the other bit of gossip regarding her relationship with Michiru...

Haruka sighed, running her fingers through her hair. Michiru had made their fake relationship seem so _simple_ , and Haruka knew it was her job, but something about it didn’t sit right with her. She barely knew the woman, and she hated the disadvantage that left her at. Yes, the strategic disadvantage. Michiru was just so _frustrating._ Haruka huffed, lunging to finally grab the remote, and began to flip through the channels absently, waiting for said woman to finish getting ready.

Haruka was feeling herself beginning to doze off when the door to the bathroom clicked and Michiru walked out. Suddenly, Haruka was wide awake. She wouldn’t deny Michiru was attractive, and her outfits were always sharp, prim, and (woefully) professional. The plunging neckline of the form-fitting black dress she now wore was _far_ from professional.

“...Haruka?”

“Huh?” Haruka said intelligently.

Michiru gave a wry smile, raising an eyebrow. “I asked if you could help me zip this up.”

“Oh, yeah of course!” Haruka fumbled over herself as she jumped off the couch, a little too quickly.

Michiru turned and pulled her hair up and away from the neckline of her dress. Up close, Haruka could see the delicate beading of the dress, glimmering even in the now dim light of the apartment, as well as the smooth expanse of pale skin of Michiru’s back, the delicate hairs on the nape of her neck. Haruka licked her lips nervously, hoping her hands weren’t as sweaty as they suddenly felt. With a quick movement, the dress was zipped and Michiru let her long waves of hair fall back down over her shoulders.

“You–err, that is, the dress. Is beautiful. Well, you both are.”

“You look handsome yourself,” Michiru replied, that coy smile Haruka had grown to know too well playing on the corner of her lips.

“Thanks.” There was a pause for a moment. “Should we–?”

“I think we have a bit of time before we have to be there.”

“Yeah.” Haruka bit her lip, and remembered what Setsuna had said. “Well, how about you tell me a bit about yourself.”

Michiru raised an eyebrow at the blonde again. “About myself?”

Haruka flushed. “Well, you know so much about me and I know nothing about you. And if people think we’re dating, I don’t want to seem _completely_ oblivious.”

Michiru seemed to consider the proposition, tilting her head to the side, causing the dangling earrings she was wearing to catch the light. Then she gave a nod, sitting herself down on one of the room’s armchairs. “What do you want to know?”

Haruka blinked, and took the opportunity to sit on the couch adjacent to Michiru. “Umm...Well what are your hobbies?”

“My hobbies?”

Haruka flushed at the juvenile sound of the question, coming from Michiru. “Yeah, what do you do when you’re not bodyguarding? Did you ever wanna do anything else?”

A sad sort of _something_ flashed across Michiru’s face, like a wave breaking, leaving her expression just a bit softer. “I wanted to be a violinist, for a while.”

The image suited her perfectly somehow; Haruka could see her instrument in hand, see her tucking the smooth wood frame under her chin and playing something that would take her breath away. “And why didn’t you continue with it?”

With that, the wall was back and Michiru seemed to close herself off. “Family reasons,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Haruka gave a hum of understanding, hands behind her head. “My family wanted me to be a concert pianist.”

“Did you like playing?”

Haruka shrugged. “Well enough. I liked racing better though.” She grinned. “Still could reach an 11th, though.”

“Impressive,” Michiru said.

“And you, do you still play? You must have liked it if you wanted to be a professional.”

“I don’t really have to time these days, but occasionally, yes. I do.” Michiru gave a wistful smile and Haruka was struck by the need to console her, which was ridiculous, of course. But Michiru’s expression hinted at _something_ that Haruka hadn’t yet seen from her. Behind her cool facade was something almost fragile, and much more melancholic than she’d have expected.

“Well, maybe you could play for me sometime. I could butcher an accompaniment even, if you wanted.”

Michiru’s eyes widened, and for a moment she seemed unsure how to react. She finally smiled, the closest thing Haruka had seen to a genuine one in the time that they’d been together. “I’d like that.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to my writing partner for letting me really run (race??) away with this chapter. Extra thanks to her fantastic editing. You’re the best and obvs this wouldn’t be a thing without you. 
> 
> To everyone else—happy almost New Year and I hope you all enjoy!! Leave a comment to let us know what you think~ -KM

The camera flashes blinded them as soon as they set foot in the room. Michiru pasted on her most demure smile, eyes cast down slightly, focusing on the feet of the photographers. She began counting the number of people they passed– already twenty and they had barely cleared the entrance. From her previous preparation, she knew that there were four other exits: two at the back, one through the kitchen, and one through the side. The dome above was made of clear glass– Michiru cast her head up as the camera flashes died down, allowing her to glimpse the sliver of moon peering through.

Unlike Michiru, Haruka, for her part, seemed unconcerned with the number of people. The racer simply swaggered through the crowd, hands in her pockets, shoulders thrown back. She seemed to be in her element, scooping up Sharpies, signing notebooks, throwing out a “yes” and “hell no,” as reporters came in waves. She was like the moon glowing in the evening sky above them, directing the tides of people back and forth with ease.

It was yet another side of Haruka that Michiru had only seen glimpses of until now.

“You’re good at this,” Michiru said, when they had pulled over to the side, giving Haruka time to eat between photo ops and the next round of schmoozing.

“You sound surprised.”

“No, simply admiring,” said Michiru.

“Don’t.” Haruka gestured at the crowds with her wine glass. “I grew up doing this, it’s not particularly impressive.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I guess Setsuna didn’t include that in my file,” Haruka said, though not abrasively for once. “My parents had more money than they knew what to do with, so we attended a lot of charity events when I was a kid.”

Michiru tried to imagine Haruka as a child— perhaps a little unruly, a little too jaded, a little too tall. Forced to wear a dress to these type of events, because wasn’t it always like that? It made Michiru a little sad to think of, and suddenly, she didn’t quite find this side of Haruka’s as charming anymore. Useful, to a point—but not real.

“That doesn’t seem like it would suit you,” Michiru decided.

“And I thought you said I was doing so well,” Haruka said, a slight smile curving her lips.

“I re-evaluated.”

Haruka didn’t respond, but her smile deepened, and Michiru decided that she quite liked seeing something other than the scowl that Michiru’s presence seemed to produce more often than not. It lit up her entire face, her eyes glowing softly, almost fondly.

For a moment, everything went quiet, except for the imagined sound of the ocean in Michiru’s mind, washing over the two of them alone.

“Oh no,” Haruka muttered, breaking Michiru out of her reverie. The sea fell away around her, and now it was only a crowd of people surrounding them. Michiru followed what had distracted Haruka, and caught sight of bright blonde hair. Minako Aino, the train of her coral dress slithering behind her, slunk across the room. Panic grew in Haruka’s eyes.

Michiru grasped for Haruka’s hand, causing her to turn toward her. “Dance with me,” she said.

“Huh?”

“We can give Minako something to talk about without even hiding.” When Haruka didn’t respond immediately, she added, “I’ve been told I’m quite a good dancer.”

“Oh?” Haruka finally turned her gaze fully back to Michiru. “I bet I can sweep you off your feet easily.”

Michiru laughed. “I’d like to see you try.” With a soft tug on Haruka’s hand, she led the taller blonde to the floor. “Do you know how to waltz?” she asked.

“What type of pathetic trust fund darling would I be if I didn’t?” Haruka said, with a laugh that warmed Michiru from her head to toe. She placed her right hand in Haruka’s, and her left on her shoulder. Haruka’s hand was warm on the middle of her back, the violins were playing for her, and then they were spinning through the sea of people. The crowd parted for them, the music vibrating through every part of Michiru. She closed her eyes, allowing Haruka to guide them through the room, allowing herself to imagine that this was normal. A whirlwind romance with star racer Haruka Tenoh—and after this dance, they would hop in Haruka’s car and drive forever. Michiru could see herself, see the two of them, driving along the beach, the wind in her hair, Haruka’s hair lightening in the sun—no responsibilities. Just sea and sky.

The violins’ song faded away, and Haruka and Michiru slowed to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. Michiru looked up at Haruka and wondered, if maybe just for one night, she could pretend that this was real.

“What are you thinking?” Haruka asked.

“You want to know more about my hobbies?” Michiru teased.

Haruka spluttered. “That’s a low blow.”

“Guilty.” Michiru tightened her grip on Haruka’s hand. “I was just thinking that… this is nice.”

Haruka’s gaze softened. “Yeah,” she agreed, pulling Michiru slightly closer, “It is.”

The violins began again, picking up a faster, more sultry tune. Haruka graced Michiru with her most arrogant smirk, the type that Michiru had only seen when Haruka hopped onto her motorcycle. “I don’t suppose you know the tango?”

“What pathetic trust fund darling would I be if I didn’t?” Michiru said.

Two dances became three, three became four, and then Michiru lost count. Her face was flushed and her hair had started to come undone from its bobby pins, but Michiru’s heart soared with every step, Haruka guiding them forward and Michiru pulling them back through the waves of the crowd around them. All Michiru wanted was to stay like this forever, her hand in Haruka’s in this endless dance.

Finally though, someone came to bring Michiru back to reality. Next to her elbow, someone coughed. Haruka’s arm around Michiru dropped, already tensing beside her. In a bright red tuxedo, a black bow tie around her neck, a woman stalked up to them. With matching bright red hair, and at least a half foot shorter than Michiru even, Michiru recognized her as Eugeal, one of the other upcoming top racers that Setsuna had noted in Haruka’s files. “Eugeal, how refreshing it is to see you somewhere other than five feet behind me on the track,” Haruka said.

“As charming as ever, Haruka.” Eugeal slid her eyes to Michiru. “And you must be the mystery lover all the blogs are talking about.”

“Well, I’m not that much of a mystery if everyone’s talking about me, right?” Michiru examined her fingernails, looking at Eugeal through her eyelashes. “When were you in the papers last, mm, Eugeal was it?”

Eugeal’s eyes narrowed, but she kept her tone casual. “I’m not here to stir up drama, unlike some racers. I just came to say I’m looking forward to racing against you again.”

There was something about the way Eugeal looked at Haruka that made Michiru’s skin crawl. It was as if she was sizing her up at every turn, analyzing how best to take her down. But Michiru supposed she couldn’t simply take out Haruka’s competition; that would reflect particularly badly on Haruka’s image.

“Speaking of drama, Seiya Kou!” Eugeal gestured behind Haruka and Michiru. The two turned to see Seiya, sunglasses still on top of her head, clad in a blinding lime-green suit. Beside her, Michiru saw Haruka’s fists clench, though likely not because of the suit. “Nice suit,” Eugeal said, as Seiya drew closer. “Very innovative. I’m sure you’ll stand out in the papers this way.”

“Since when did racers care about fashion?” Seiya spared a grin for Haruka, who scowled at her.

“Well I wouldn't say they care, so much as it’s impossible not to look away,” Haruka said dryly. “Compensating for something?”

“Only a lack of personality,” Eugeal stage-whispered, eliciting a giggle from Michiru. Maybe her earlier judgment had been too biased.

“Har-de-har.” Seiya shot an unimpressed look at both. “You both can continue making those jokes when I wipe you both off the track.”

“Please,” said Haruka. “You’ve had beginner’s luck up until now.”

“And I would say that you’re just about burnt out, Haruka,” Eugeal said.

Haruka smirked. “Oh, you just keep thinking that. You’ll see tomorrow what happens. Besides trying to making yourselves feel better, did either of you have an actual reason to be bothering us?” she asked.

“Personally, I just like seeing your tormented face,” Eugeal teased, twirling a lock of red hair around her finger innocently.

“That’s sadistic right there,” Seiya muttered. “As much fun as this is, I came to tell you that Usagi is here. And despite the fact that I don’t quite understand why she’s friends with you, she’s been upset, and I think you should talk to her.”

“What are you, her assistant?” Haruka sneered.

“Think of me as her bodyguard,” said Seiya.

Michiru bit back a dark laugh as Haruka’s face slid into an unreadable expression. “I’m sure you’re a fantastic one, Seiya,” Michiru said, still unable to keep the smile off her face. “Where can we find Usagi?”

Seiya nodded a few feet from them, and there the blonde was, planted by the buffet, excitedly chatting to Mamoru by the side. Michiru ignored Haruka’s soft hiss of “Don’t!” and waved a hand at the two of them. Despite the distance, Usagi perked up, and raised her hand as far as possible, waving back, ignoring as she knocked a plate completely over. Michiru pitied the waiters here.

“Well, I think duty calls,” Michiru said briskly to Eugeal and Seiya.

“Wait, Michiru!” Haruka protested, but Michiru ignored her once again, tugging her by the elbow. Michiru pulled Haruka along toward Usagi, barely taking the time to wonder when Haruka’s emotional friendships had fallen under her duties. Regardless, she did not stop, and soon they were walking right up next to Usagi and Mamoru.

Haruka faltered, the confident grin that she had been wearing so far that evening sliding off. Haruka glanced at Michiru, who could see her uncertainty. She placed a hand on Haruka’s elbow, hoping that she was conveying some sense of solidarity. She nodded in greeting at Usagi, and then stepped back, giving the two space to talk.

For a moment, Mamoru and Michiru simply stood off to the side, both observing their respective blonde charges. When it appeared that neither would be bursting into tears, Mamoru turned to Michiru. “Thank you for that,” he said.

Michiru smiled. “No, thank you. Haruka doesn’t say much, but I could tell this was bothering her.”

Mamoru hummed. “How long have you known her?”

“It feels like my whole life.” At first, Michiru said it because it felt right for her cover, and because she knew it would probably annoy Haruka on some level. But as she saw Mamoru nod with genuine understanding, his eyes drifting over to Usagi, Michiru was struck by the fact that it was true. She found herself gripping her wine glass tighter, digging her nails into her opposite forearm. She watched as Haruka placed a hand on top of Usagi’s head, the two looking more like sisters than friends, and realized that her assignment had become much more personal than she’d ever meant it to.

Mamoru had said something but Michiru missed it. She flushed. “Pardon?” she asked.

Mamoru, luckily, looked amused, rather than offended. Michiru suspected that came from practice with Usagi, who according to Haruka, didn’t have an attention span longer than five minutes. “Something else is going on between you two, isn’t it?”

That was unusually perceptive. Michiru eyed him, taken aback. “Why would you say that?” she asked, keeping her voice even.

Mamoru shrugged. “That’s what Usagi thinks, and she usually has good judgment. But, well… I guess it’s none of my business. I’m crap at people,” he added, scratching the back of his head. “She’s much better than I am. I was never good with them, single child, orphan and all that. Sometimes I think— well, never mind.”

Michiru softened. “I think I know what you mean,” she said.

“Do you? I don’t.” Mamoru let out a little chuckle. “You seem to get along quite easily with people.”

“Do I?” Michiru was honestly surprised. Most of the time, she felt like she was drowning amongst this crowd, only keeping afloat by Haruka, who anchored her in reality. “I’m not a huge fan of them myself, I must say.”

“Really?” Mamoru looked impressed for some reason. “I would never know.”

“I wouldn’t know with you either,” she said, gently.

“Ah, well, thanks,” said Mamoru. “I hope so. I want to be a doctor, so I need to get better.”

“A doctor.” Michiru glanced up and down, quite easily imaging a lab coat hanging off his broad shoulders. “That’s noble.”

“Thanks.” A slight flush crossed his face now. “But what about you Michiru?”

The lie slid off Michiru’s tongue easily—“I’m a musician.”

“Really?”

“A violinist.” She could almost hear the music—the quiet melancholy, the feel of the bow light in her hands, the smooth wood seeming to mold to her touch, her fingers dancing across the strings.

Her heart ached.

“Michiru? Did I say something?”

Yes, something awfully perceptive, thought Michiru. She was usually much better at controlling her emotions than that. Luckily for her, Haruka and Usagi were coming back, Usagi chattering at a much more peaceful Haruka than before. “You’re much better with people than you think,” she said, patting Mamoru on the shoulder. He looked bemused, but couldn’t say anything, as Usagi was already tackling him again.

“Mamo! We need to dance. Haruka told me she and Michiru danced for the entire first hour.” Usagi pouted, eyes going as wide as possible.

“Usa, I’m a horrible dancer.”

“Well I’m great! I’ll lead.” Just like that, Usagi had swept Mamoru away to the dance floor, where she corralled him into a horrible version of a two step. But the two were laughing the entire time, their faces lit up with such fondness, that the other dancers couldn’t even be angry as the couple terrorized the dance floor.

“She has two left feet, honestly.” Haruka pinched two glasses of wine, offering one to Michiru, who took it, taking only a sip. Haruka, meanwhile, threw her head back, draining the entire glass in nearly one go.

“Careful. The gossip magazines might say that you’re a drunk next,” Michiru teased.

“The perfect scandal,” said Haruka wryly. “‘Burnt Out and Boozed Up: The Haruka Tenoh Story’.”

“Subtitled: A Designated Driver Needed.”

“Only if she has blue hair.” At this, Haruka blushed slightly, but she held Michiru’s gaze.

“I drive quite slow, I’ll have you know.”

Haruka faked a horrified face. “Not—the speed limit!”

“I’m afraid so,” Michiru said.

“However shall I survive.” Haruka’s eyes practically twinkled, entire face lighting up. “But, Michiru, I would go slow for you.”

Michiru swallowed, suddenly all too aware of her quickening pulse. God. What was happening? “That seems impractical. Maybe...Maybe I can push the speed limit,” she said, not even sure what the words coming out of her were anymore, let alone where they were coming from.

“Breaking the law now? That doesn’t seem the Michiru Kaioh way.”

“You’d be surprised about my ways,” she said.

“I’m sure I would be,” Haruka almost whispered, her voice dangerously low. Michiru knew she was flushed, and gave a small, hopefully discrete cough to ground herself. Haruka shifted, then blinked, as if suddenly made aware of where they were and what it was they were doing, whatever it was. Haruka cleared her own throat, pushing a hand through her hair. Then abruptly: “You know that question they always ask in high school or job interviews? And how they always ask where you see yourself in 10 years?”

Michiru couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her charge. “Yes.”

“Can I ask you? That question I mean?”

“Where I see myself in 10 years?” Michiru wondered if this was another of Haruka’s awful (and rather endearing) attempts at “getting to know her.” But the blonde’s face told Michiru she was deeply serious. “I don’t know,” Michiru admitted. “This is the only career my family planned for. And who’s to say if I’ll even be alive in 10 years?”

Haruka’s eyes widened. “But you look perfect,” she said, and then hastily added, “Perfectly healthy that is.”

Michiru shrugged. “I’m not sure I was meant to live past 30.”

“That’s not right.”

“It’s my duty to my family.” Michiru stared past her wine glass, imagining her father’s rigid form, the stern line of her mother’s mouth, her broken violin on the ground beside her. She looked at Haruka, wondering if she would even understand that, as someone who had the luxury to pursue her dreams. But perhaps, it was better that she didn’t understand.

But... Michiru wanted her to understand. Because if she could understand, then maybe, maybe, even after this mission...

Oh, it was ridiculous to even think about it.

But Michiru’s heart yearned for Haruka to be the person that could sympathize. If Haruka, all gruffness, and stubbornness, and passion, could understand, maybe the idea of an after wasn’t far-fetched. She made Michiru dare to dream of it, and she was certain she wasn’t imagining the tenderness she felt when they danced.

Running a hand through already tousled hair, Haruka shook frowned and said, “I don’t think any duty is important enough for you to end your life like that.”

“And how should you know?” Michiru said, perhaps a bit too sharply. “Considering you’ve only known me for a week, and half the time, have raged at my very existence.”

“What does it matter if I know you or not?” Haruka said, her own tone just as sharp. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re all too willing to die.”

“You don’t think it’s honorable then, to protect someone else’s loved one?” asked Michiru. “Even if this may not be the life I would have chosen, I am at the least ensuring that others live. Most people spend most of their lives wishing they could make a difference. And I am, without having even sought to do it.”

“But that’s just it, you don’t even want to do it,” Haruka persisted.

“Duty to people is not about want. Or need. It is about understanding that some things must simply be done.”

“Even at the cost of your own life?”

“Yes.” Michiru paused again. She could barely bring herself to look at Haruka’s face. When she did, she saw something like pity in the woman’s expression. A part of her wanted to pull off the mask she’d been wearing, to break down and be the one held for once. But then, almost as quickly as the expression had appeared, it disappeared. Haruka’s mouth now just twisted with anger, almost disgust.

“That just seems like a shitty excuse to make you feel okay throwing your life away.”

The idea of an after, so near and so tangible before, now seemed to slowly slip from Michiru’s grasp. She wanted to reach for it, but it was slipping away. Michiru drew herself up to her full height, wiping her face completely blank. She resolved herself; she would not mourn what had never happened, had never truly had the possibility of happening. Coldly she said, “I won’t have you of all people telling me what I should do.” When Haruka didn’t change her expression, Michiru felt her quickly built defense waver. Haruka simply stared at her, expression still disbelieving. Before she could stop herself, Michiru lashed out again, “What do you do all day? Race around and pretend it isn’t for your ego? What do you know of duty? What do you know of me?”

Michiru barely had time to register the pain flashing across Haruka’s face when the glass above them crashed.

It was almost mesmerizing, watching the ceiling break above of her, as if the heavens themselves were raining down judgment. For one moment, the entire room seemed to be mute, as everyone turned their gazes up to watch.

Then the screaming began, and her body remembered that she had a job to do. “Get down!” She threw herself on Haruka, and they crashed to the ground, Michiru shielding their heads from the glass. The crowd’s screams chilled Michiru to the bone. She was not here to save everyone—she reminded herself. Only this one.

And this one would still be enough.

Michiru dared a glance, and upon seeing the glass had stopped falling, dragged both of them to their feet. Haruka appeared to be in shock, a slight dusting of glass shards in her hair, but otherwise unharmed. They were much too far from the exit; Michiru had allowed herself to be distracted, and now they were situated at the furthest corner of the hall, rows of panicked party-goers racing to get there first. Worse—smoke was starting to fill the room, and Michiru couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from.

“Usagi—we have to find Usagi—“ Haruka was saying.

“Mamoru is with her, I’m sure she’s fine--”

“No! We have to find her!” Haruka tried to take off, but there were too many people in front of them, making it impossible for her to make any headway. Among the crowd, Michiru saw several black jumpsuit-clad figures wearing masks, pushing through the hordes of guests, almost as if searching for someone.

“Haruka!” Michiru grabbed her hand, tugging the other woman back, ensuring they couldn’t be separated. Then, with a swift tug, she ripped open the slit of her dress, revealing the holster that held her phone and knives. She watched Haruka’s eyes widen, though she couldn’t tell if it was due to the amount of leg she had just revealed, or the knives.

She decided to pin it to the amount of leg, because if nothing else, Michiru knew she had great legs.

Not the time. Michiru scolded herself. She shoved her phone at Haruka—“I’m going to lead us out of here. You call Usagi to make sure she’s okay, and then call the police. Can you do that?” she said, sharply, noticing Haruka’s drifting attention.

Haruka scowled, drawing herself up to her full height. “I have my own phone you know.” Despite the complaint, she was already punching a number in, saying something urgent. Michiru tuned her out, mind teeming as she planned their escape route.

Her charge, however, was uncooperative. Hanging up the phone, Haruka shoved the it back into Michiru’s hands. “They’re in the kitchen, we need to go to them.” And without waiting, she took off.

“Haruka!” The blonde didn’t stop. Groaning, Michiru took off after her, feeling her uneasiness grow.

* * *

Chaos abounded—what had seemed a pleasantly filled room had turned into a crowded trap, preventing Haruka from reaching her destination. She could see the kitchen, and of course Usagi had ended up in the kitchen, but between the panicked people stepping over glass, and others that had fallen to the ground, it seemed impossible to reach. She was just conscious of Michiru behind her (now with a knife in hand, Jesus—if she had more time to think about it, she might have been turned on) ensuring they weren’t trampled.

Finally, they cleared the waves of people, and Haruka rushed into the kitchen. The screams were now distant; if Haruka tried hard enough, she could pretend they were merely in her head. She made her way through the kitchen, noting the slow-rising smoke of food still cooking. Beside her, Michiru had armed herself with another knife to complement the first, holding them both in front of them. Before Haruka could make a snarky comment, a familiar voice rang out.

“Haruka!”

Haruka and Michiru whirled—large blue eyes peered out from inside the pantry. Usagi waved a dainty hand. Before she could truly grasp what was going on, Haruka and Michiru were stepping into the kitchen’s walk-in pantry. Greeting them was not only Usagi, but Seiya and Mamoru.

Mamoru cleared his throat. “Well, this is quite cozy,” he said.

“Sure,” Seiya said dryly. “Just how I imagined my night ending.”

Indeed, with five grown adults, even with as small as Usagi and Michiru might be, it was quite cramped. Haruka resisted the urge to snap at Seiya for knocking into her ribs not once, but twice, and instead settled for, “We can’t hide in here forever. Does anyone know what’s going on?”

“The entire front room outside is covered in smoke, glass, people in masks, and everyone screaming their heads off. Seems pretty clear to me,” said Seiya.

“They were armed,” Mamoru said grimly, wrapping an arm tighter around Usagi.

“Then again, so is Black Widow over here.” Seiya eyed Michiru’s knives, which she still hadn’t put away.

Michiru gave a light smile. “Never hurts to be too prepared, right?”

“Were you expecting this?” Usagi looked back and forth between Michiru and Haruka, eyes unusually sharp on both of them. Though she was pale, she was remarkably calm.

“Nothing on this scale,” Michiru said.

“If you were expecting anything, why didn’t you warn someone?” Seiya tried to take a hostile step forward, as much as she could in a five foot pantry. Haruka shot out an arm to block her, meeting the other woman’s glare, her chest tightening in anger.

“Back off—we had no idea.”

“You guys shouldn’t have kept this to yourself—”

“Shh!” Mamoru pressed a finger to his lips, no longer looking at them, but peering out through the slats of the pantry. “Do you hear that?”

“Footsteps,” Usagi whispered.

The five fell quiet. Haruka strained her eyes, realizing that more smoke had entered the kitchen while they weren’t paying attention. She realized the tightness in her lungs hadn’t been out of anger, but was actually due to the smoke slowly choking them. She looked over at Michiru, who also seemed to have noticed, judging by the grim look on her face. Worse, the people that had crashed through the dome were now advancing through the room, and they would be upon the pantry any moment.

“I’ll go first and clear a path,” Michiru whispered to the group.

“You will?” Seiya coughed, eyes red, but still ready for a fight. “I don’t see how you can do anything against those guys. No way, I’ll go first.”

“I agree,” Mamoru, surprisingly jumped in. “They’ll focus on the larger members of us first—”

“Trust me.” Michiru’s eyes were bright and defiant. She fixed each of them with a stare, eyes finally landing on Haruka. “As soon as I open these doors, all of you need to run toward the exit. We can’t stay here any longer.”

Haruka held Michiru’s gaze, thinking back to their earlier conversation, which now seemed an entire world away. She didn’t know what Michiru was expecting, but she knew, with a haunting certainty, that the other woman was ready to die. For all of them.

Haruka knew she couldn’t let that happen, and with more clarity than she had ever felt anything in her life, also knew she would do anything to stop that from happening. Maybe Michiru was right and Haruka didn’t know anything about the other woman. But she did know one thing: she deserved more than this. And if nothing else, Haruka knew the joy Michiru had felt when they danced; she herself had felt it when she held her in her arms, and she had shared that joy with her.  
  
If surviving this—whatever this was—meant that Haruka didn’t get to share that joy with her again, it wasn’t worth it.

Michiru broke the door open, right foot first, flying out before anyone could stop her. Haruka was only steps behind her, herding the other three toward the exit. “Go!” she shouted, throwing Usagi into Mamoru’s waiting arms. Usagi strained at Mamoru’s arm instantly, panic flooding her face, as she caught onto Haruka’s plans.

“Haruka! Haruka, you and Michiru can’t stay here! You have to come with us!”

Haruka steeled herself against Usagi’s face and looked to Seiya instead. Seiya ground her teeth. “Don’t die,” she snapped out. “It’s no fun becoming the number one racer without a rival.”

Haruka bared her teeth. “I’m not going to let you take that spot so easily. Now go!” Haruka shoved Seiya to the door. She didn’t bother watching them go, already turning to Michiru.

Three woman in all black had converged upon Michiru. Her hair had fallen out completely now, aquamarine waves flying around her, as she blocked each incoming punch, one after another. She moved with the same fluidity and grace that Haruka had noted when they danced, bolstered in combat by a ferocity that caught Haruka’s breath.

For a moment, Haruka almost felt like she had been overly dramatic. Clearly, Michiru could handle this on her own.

Then, in a flash, one of the women landed a hit, her knife entering her side, and Michiru cried out, buckling from the hit, but continuing to move. Letting out a yell, Haruka charged forward, and tackled the woman, slamming her head into the counter next to her. The person crumbled in only a moment. Ducking the next attack, Haruka dragged Michiru toward the back set of kitchen stoves.

“I told you to leave,” Michiru said, furious.

“I’m not leaving you here to die.” Haruka let out a wheezing cough—it was nearly impossible to see through the smoke now, and her lungs were protesting with every breath.

“I told you this is my job,” Michiru hissed.

“You did your job—we got the others out. Now, we have to get out.”

“Go, Haruka. Run.”

“I told you, I’m not leaving without you.”

Michiru cursed to herself. “Stubborn to the end. Okay, then. Let’s go.”

Haruka didn’t have time to act before Michiru crashed into the attackers again, brutally cutting the first down with a whack to the neck from the handle of her knife. Haruka shot up to stand by Michiru’s side, as the last remaining attacker paused, slowly raising their hands.

“There’s two of us and one of you,” Michiru said. “Maybe you’d better tell us who you are.”

The attacker persisted in their silence.

What happened next happened so fast, Haruka barely had time to process it. There was a loud bang, and then Haruka was flat on the ground, Michiru on top of her. Dazed, head throbbing (had she hit something on her way down?) Haruka took her hands away from where they had come to grip Michiru’s hips, gingerly trying to help them both sit up. But something was wrong, her hands were wet—

Haruka looked down. Her right hand was bright red, covered in blood. But nothing hurt, so it couldn’t be hers, which meant—

“Michiru!” she screamed, or rather, tried to scream—her voice came out barely higher than a whispered wheeze. Coughing, Haruka blindly grabbed onto Michiru again, even as the woman tried to stand up over her. “Michiru, stop it!”

“I won’t let you die, Haruka.”

“Idiot.” Haruka choked out a sob, standing with her. “I keep telling you the same thing.”

The gun was still trained on them, and Haruka thought that actually, it might not matter after all and they might both just die right there and then. So much for letting Michiru do her job, Haruka thought wryly. At least she would already be dead, so Setsuna wouldn't be able to kill Haruka herself.

“Oi!”

All three of them whipped their head; sticking out like a sore thumb was Seiya Kou, her slightly torn lime green suit blinding even through the smoke, a police officer by her side. “There she is!!”

“Put down the gun!” the officer barked.

The woman didn’t hesitate—a bang, and then the officer was down. Haruka stumbled, and Michiru dragged her down to the ground again. Then the entire room was flooded with police officers, ushering them out.

“Wait, you have to go after that woman!” Haruka said, struggling as the police officers began pushing her toward the exit.

“It’s okay, ma’am, we need to make sure you’re safe first,” the officer said.

Frustration welled in Haruka. How could she explain to them that that the woman had shot Michiru, and she couldn’t be let off the hook?

She watched as Michiru was shunted off into a separate ambulance from her, the paramedics already frantically telling Michiru to stay awake.

“It’s okay Ms. Tenoh.” The same officer from before clapped Haruka’s shoulder. “We’ll patch your girlfriend right up.”

Haruka didn’t even attempt to explain that Michiru and she weren’t actually dating. And never would be. Bitterly, she hoped that Michiru was happy if she was permanently injured. After all, she’d done her job, right?

And in the end, that was all that probably mattered to her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my ever-lovely writing partner for helping me through this seemingly-unending chapter...! I swear, I've never related to/been more frustrated with Michiru more... But even when it meant I had to add whole conversations, all the time spent was so worth it; I love these characters. <3 It's been a loooong time since I wrote something this long, and I'm excited to share it with you all!! And we're almost to the grand finale!! Feel free to let us know what you think so far with a comment! <3 You can also come chat with us on twitter, I'm @abbysayswords and kitmarlowe is @haroved c: –Vivelarepublique

The first thought Michiru had upon waking up, besides appreciating the fact that she did wake up, was if she hurt this much, Haruka better not have a _scratch_ on her. She didn’t have to wonder long. When she opened her eyes, Haruka was the first thing she saw, sitting directly to her right. She was still wearing her suit, the top few buttons of her shirt undone and tie hanging loose around her neck. Her jacket was thrown over the seat behind her, and she had pushed up her sleeves. She seemed to be staring, almost entranced, at Michiru’s arm. The uncomfortable-looking plastic chair that she sat in shook a little as Haruka’s foot tapped out a relentless beat on the tile. 

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep that up,” Michiru said, her voice quieter and raspier than she had expected.

Haruka jumped at the sound of her voice, almost sending the rickety chair to the ground. “Michiru!”

“I may need to ask Setsuna for a pay raise,” Michiru said wryly.

Haruka ignored the attempt to lighten the mood. “Are you okay? How are you feeling? Do you need more pillows? Should I get a nurse? Do--”

Michiru almost laughed. She would have, if not for the throbbing pain in her side. “Haruka, I’m fine.”

“You got _stabbed_ not to mention _shot!”_ Haruka’s arms flailed a bit in frustration as Michiru blinked. Ah right. That explained the throbbing in her side. She looked down at her bandaged left arm, which was somehow less painful, and more numb. That was a different kind of disconcerting. 

“Ah, well...” was all she could manage in response. The monitor in the room beeped steadily in the awkward silence. She cleared her throat. When Haruka was less agitated, maybe she could ask the woman to get her some tea. “Are you hurt?”

Haruka stared, incredulous. “What? No, I’m fine.”

“She just had minor cuts and bruises,” a hesitant male voice added. Michiru turned, surprised to see Mamoru sitting along the wall by the foot of her bed, next to an anxious-looking Usagi, who in turn was seated next to an unperturbed Seiya, naturally in the seat farthest away from Haruka. Michiru was surprised to see any, let alone all, of them here.

“Are you really feeling okay, Michiru?” Usagi finally spoke. Michiru had never heard the girl this quiet before. She gulped, her throat aching.

“I’m fine, Usagi. I’m just tired more than anything else.”

“Can I get you anything?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Some tea would be nice, actually,” Michiru admitted. She ignored the glare she could feel Haruka giving her for being so much more cooperative with the other girl. Haruka, Michiru could handle, was used to handling. This girl she barely knew, and who looked ready to burst into tears on her behalf, on the other hand… It was all rather overwhelming. As much as it probably annoyed Haruka, Michiru appreciated Seiya’s nonchalance. 

“Let’s go get Michiru some tea, Usako,” Mamoru said, giving Michiru an appreciative look before leading her out. Seiya seemed to weigh her options for a second before making eye contact with Haruka and deciding to follow the other couple out of the room.

Haruka waited until the three others were down the hall before turning again to Michiru. “What were you thinking? You almost got yourself killed!”

Michiru sighed, closing her eyes to compose herself. It turned out “almost getting herself killed” was not enough to get her out of this conversation. “You didn’t get hurt, right?”

“That’s not the point—”

“That _is_ the point, Haruka! My job was to make sure you didn’t get hurt, and you didn’t.” Despite her attempt to remain cool, she ended up shifting somehow, causing a jolt of pain to shoot through her side, as well as her previously numbed arm. Michiru grimaced as she readjusted, hoping this wouldn't affect her ability to complete the rest of her mission.

Haruka somehow managed to look vindicated, irate, and concerned all at once. She fidgeted with her hands, seeming uncertain what to do with them. “No job is worth that pain,” Haruka finally said. 

“It was worth keeping you safe,” Michiru said firmly.

“At the expense of your your future, you dreams?” Haruka moved closer to the bed now, brow furrowing as she gestured to Michiru’s bandaged arm. “What if you could never play the violin again?”

“I—I don’t see how that’s any of your concern,” Michiru said, her voice wavering despite herself. 

“What if I want it to be?” Haruka almost whispered, her eyes shining. There was something about her expression that made Michiru want to second guess herself, to throw away her protocols and open up to the woman in front of her. But before she could say anything in reply, Usagi, Mamoru, and Seiya returned with their signature racket, Usagi’s bright voice guiding the three all the way into the room.

“I have your tea, Michiru!” Usagi said, seeming much more like her bubbly self, holding in fact, two steaming cups. “I wasn’t sure if you liked green tea or black tea, so I just got both!” 

“Careful with those, Usako,” Mamoru said, eyeing the hot beverages warily. 

_“I_ can help you with those,” Seiya, said, taking one of the cups chivalrously. 

“Oh, thank you, Seiya!” Usagi beamed. “So which do you prefer?”

Michiru blinked, as everyone turned their attention to her. “Ah… I’ll take the black tea, thank you.” Seiya beamed triumphantly, shooting a look at Mamoru, who remained unfazed. Usagi’s beam grew even _brighter_ if possible, as she hopped over to hand the beverage to Michiru.

“Thanks, Usagi.” Michiru took a sip, forcing herself not to grimace. The cheap black tea was strong and bitter, but felt good on her throat. “It’s perfect.” She thought she heard Haruka snicker, and it took all of her self control not to shoot her a look. All things considered, she supposed that the reaction was tame compared to Haruka’s usual dramatics. 

“Oh! Also, Makoto, Ami, and Rei all wish you a speedy recovery!” Usagi said, clapping her hands together for emphasis.

Michiru had no idea who those people were, but she nodded anyway.

“Taiki does, too,” Seiya added, placing the remaining tea at the table by the foot of Michiru’s bed and flopping back down on a chair. Mamoru sat down awkwardly, leaving a chair between the two of them.

“Usagi mass-texted everyone in her phone when she heard you were injured,” Haruka clarified, eyebrows raising pointedly at Michiru’s stunned expression.

“Oh, I… thank you,” Michiru managed to say. What was it about these two that always left Michiru speechless?

“It’s the least we can do,” Usagi said, eyes shining again, hands clasped together. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, Michiru. You’re so brave. And strong! Where did you learn to do all of that??” Usagi gestured wildly, karate chopping into the air. Mamoru eyed the still steaming tea next to her, carefully grabbing it to keep it out of her way.

“Self-defense classes.”

“Oooooh,” Usagi said, with a knowing nod. Michiru chanced a glance at Haruka, just in time to see her hide a smirk with a cough. Before Usagi could ask any more questions, there was a loud rap on the door, followed by a whirl of golden hair and cheery bouquet of daffodils.

“Helloooooo, delivery!” Minako singsonged, peeking out from behind the large bouquet.

“Minako?” Haruka and Seiya cried, the latter jumping to her feet, the racers’ incredulous expressions mirroring one another’s.

“Oh, yeah,” Usagi said, hand scratching the back of her head. “I texted Minako, too… ”

“Usagi--” Haruka began, before Minako cut her off, shoving the bouquet into her indignant arms.

“Not to fear,” she began, hand over her heart, “I am here not as a beacon of truth for the people!” Haruka scoffed, but, unperturbed, Minako continued, blue eyes shining. “I am here as a friend, moral support for my beloved Usagi and her dearest friend Michiru in their time of need!” She ended with one hand over her heart, the other gesturing towards Michiru. 

Usagi was beside herself in tears. “Minako…!” 

“Usagi!” The two embraced, as the rest of the occupants of the room stood on, dumbfounded. Haruka seemed to realize she had a faceful of yellow flowers and awkwardly put them down on the table where the green tea had been.

“So, what’s the sitch?” Minako said brightly, after her and Usagi had finished their extended hug.

“Well,” Michiru began wryly. “I’ve been stabbed in the side and shot in the arm, the latter which now feels to be more or less sedated.”

Minako waved her hand absently. “We knew that already.” Michiru wanted to ask how, considering that Minako had only entered the room a few seconds ago, but the reporter steamrolled over her: “I mean, how did this happen and why does it seem like someone wants to kill you?”

Michiru blinked. Of course, given how things had ended up, it _did_ seem like Michiru was the target, not Haruka. She almost let out a sigh of relief as she gathered her thoughts to calculate a reply. “We know as much as you do. We were at the party, having a good time, and then there was smoke and screaming and people in masks, apparently equipped with knives and guns.” Michiru gestured with her good arm to her bandaged one.

“But why _you?”_ Minako pressed, tapping her finger against the side of her face.

“Michiru was trying to protect us!” Usagi said. “She helped us escape when the bad guys came looking for us!”

Minako gave a hum of consideration. “Why were you trying to protect them?”

“She said she was trained in self-defense,” Mamoru said. “So she had more training than we did.” Michiru internally praised Mamoru, but then Usagi spoke again.

“Yeah and she had some kn—”

“Nice moves!” Haruka cut off the other blonde. Minako eyed her suspiciously, then gave a smirk.

“Oh yes, we all saw you two on the dance floor. I’m sure Michiru has lots of ‘nice moves.’” Minako winked in Haruka and Michiru’s direction, and Michiru hoped years of training in etiquette would ensure her face was not nearly as red as Haruka’s was.

“Oh, _gross,_ I’m leaving if we’re going to start talking about Haruka’s sex life,” Seiya complained, gagging for emphasis. 

Haruka’s face grew even redder as her temper flared in a way that only the other racer could seem to provoke. “We’re not talking about—”

“Not talking about what?” a soft female voice inquired. Everyone in the room whirled around to see a young woman with dark blue hair enter the hospital room, clipboard in hand and dressed in blue scrubs.

“Ami!!” Minako and Usagi cried in unison, tackling their other friend in a hug, before she could further cross the threshold. The two burst into a stream of overlapping greeting that, judging by the looks of everyone else in the room, no one but the three seemed to understand. Both Haruka’s and Seiya’s jaws had dropped slightly as they watched them.

Thankfully, Mamoru rose from his chair to redirect the rapidly declining conversation. “Any updates?” he said, calmly cutting through the three’s reunion. 

Ami untangled herself from her friends before she spoke. “Well, first off, I’m glad to see you’re awake, Ms. Kaioh! I’m Dr. Mizuno.” Michiru raised an eyebrow despite herself; the girl looked awfully young to be a doctor.

“Dr. Mizuno is an intern at the hospital, her mom is the one who treated you,” Mamoru added helpfully from behind the growing gaggle of friends in front of him.

“Ami’s super smart and her mom is the coolest!” Usagi chirped, latching onto Mamoru again.

Ami flushed. “Well, Mom, er, the other Dr. Mizuno, had me run a few tests, and it seems like everything is fine. Your bandages will need to be changed regularly, but we got the bullet out. Luckily, it only hit muscle and didn’t pierce any tendons or break any bones. It’ll be sore for a while, but it and your stab wound should heal up nicely as long as you take it easy.”

_Take it easy._ Easier said than done, given Michiru’s line of work. Still, she let out a sigh of relief that she didn’t realize she was holding.

“Thanks, Dr. Mizuno, I’ll try to do that.” Michiru ignored the glare Haruka gave her. But before Haruka could add any of her own comments, her phone rang. Haruka blinked, as if she had completely forgotten she had a phone, despite her protests a few hours earlier.

“I’ll be right back,” Haruka said gruffly, stalking off into the hall. Michiru wanted to ask what was wrong, but the veritable entourage around her made doing so difficult.

“See you soon, dear!” Michiru instead called out. At least one of them had to be putting some effort into their fake relationship, especially given their audience. And just because Michiru was currently bedridden didn’t mean she was incapable of teasing the other woman.

Haruka froze in the doorway. Michiru and five other pairs of eyes looked on, as she turned, a telling flush across her face as she waved and muttered, “See you soon.”

Minako and Usagi spun around toward Michiru after Haruka had turned the corner, their blue eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“You are perfect for Haruka,” Usagi cried, Minako nodding emphatically.

“I say this off the record, but you and Haruka… ” Minako put her hands to her heart. “Are an ideal couple! Your elegant poise to Haruka’s gruff but lovable persona… There’s a reason you two were the talk of all the papers!” She winked. “I am a good reporter, if I do say so myself. And finally, it seems like star racer Haruka Tenoh has found her perfect match! Although...” And now Minako turned on Seiya, who looked up from her phone with an expression of vague unease.

“Oh no, don’t you drag me into this,” she said. 

Minako’s eyes glistened. “I said I was here on moral support duty, and I will keep to my word, but… It’s no shame being interested in Michiru, Seiya.”

Seiya flushed, and Michiru saw her shoot a split-second glance at Usagi, who was now too distracted by Ami’s charts to notice. Usagi continued to be far too oblivious to recognize the dark-haired woman’s rather obvious feelings for her. Michiru almost wanted to say something, but decided she wasn’t quite that cruel. 

“I--I am _not_ getting into this here, with you,” Seiya said. 

Minako shrugged. “Well, I’m just saying, Haruka’s a lucky gal, and it would be perfectly logical if you were jealous!”

Michiru smiled. “I’m the lucky one,” she said, causing the two blondes, and now Ami as well, to coo again. Seiya slumped in her chair, and Mamoru looked at his watch surreptitiously. Michiru felt a pang at her own words. Those kind of phrases had always come to her as easy as breathing, but it wasn’t the first time this mission that they had felt less like artful lies and more like painful truths.

Minako patted Seiya on the back. “It’s okay, Seiya, I won’t tell the blogs anything.” She paused. “Okay, not much, anyway.”

“Tsukino, restrain your friend,” Seiya grumbled.

Usagi joined Seiya and Minako. “It’s okay, Seiya. We’ll find you someone one day,” she said cheerfully. 

At that, Michiru had to choke back a laugh, covering it with a cough. But Seiya had caught it already. The other woman threw up her hands. “I wish I had just choked on smoke and died.”

Mamoru clapped a hand on Seiya’s shoulder, either ignoring or completely oblivious to Seiya’s death stare. “It’s okay, not everyone can be like Haruka,” he said wisely. 

_No,_ Michiru thought, feeling oddly peaceful as Seiya launched into an even more heated argument with Minako and Mamoru. _Not everyone could be._

* * *

Haruka found herself two floors down in a deserted hospital cafe, sitting across from Setsuna under the dim fluorescent lighting. Even in the horribly uncomfortable orange plastic chairs, Setsuna managed to look completely prim and proper, back straight, and not a strand of hair out of place. Haruka could only imagine how she must look in comparison--bedraggled, suit hopelessly dirty, and flecks of dried blood that she hadn’t managed to wipe off still on her hands. 

Setsuna was kind and didn’t point any of that out, instead quietly waiting for an explanation. 

Was it really only yesterday that Haruka was complaining that Minako thought her and Michiru were dating? Haruka heaved a sigh, slumping further into her chair. “I swear, this is not my fault, Setsuna,” she said. 

Setsuna took a sip from her coffee before responding.“Even I know your self-destructive tendencies only go so far, Haruka.” Setsuna looked down, and for the first time since Michiru’s hire, Haruka saw something akin to distress on her features. “I just didn’t realize how necessary Michiru’s skillsets would be.”

That caught Haruka’s attention. “You know something, don’t you?”

Setsuna gripped her coffee a bit tighter. “I have some theories.” Haruka raised an eyebrow, and Setsuna relented. “I have some very good theories. And I’ll look into them. But for now, you have to stay here, and stay safe.”

Safe. Haruka wanted to scoff-- as if she was the one that had been hurt. “Michiru doesn’t need me here,” Haruka said. _“I’m_ the whole reason she got into this mess.” Her coffee, already bad, was slowly becoming more undrinkable the longer it sat untouched. She took a swig of the lukewarm liquid with a grimace.

Setsuna’s expression grew a bit more downcast at the mention of the bodyguard. “I never meant… I never wanted her to get hurt. She was merely a precaution. But she did her job better than I could have ever asked of her.”

Haruka slammed her cup down on the table, cool coffee sloshing dangerously to the rim. “She could have _died._ And for what? Some racer she barely knows?”

“It’s her job, Haruka,” Setsuna said, softly. “She knew what she was getting into.”

“I _know_ it’s her job. That doesn’t make it any more right.” Haruka felt tears stinging in her eyes, and blinked the damning droplets away. “She shouldn’t be around me. I’ll just get her hurt again. I can take getting hurt myself, but I don’t want anyone else dragged into… whatever the hell this is.”

“That’s how you thank her?” Setsuna said, voice stern. “She gets hurt defending you, and you just want to leave her?”

“That’s not what I meant--”

“But that _is_ what you meant. You can’t just run away from people, Haruka.” Setsuna sighed, one hand massaging the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. I’m just as upset as you are. But we owe it Michiru, to what she’s sacrificed for this assignment, to treat her with more respect than that. And I’ll figure out what exactly is going on before the race tomorrow, so that nobody else will get hurt.”

Haruka said nothing, words failing her, as they always seemed to lately. Instead, she gave a curt nod.

Setsuna’s gaze softened. “I think you’re wrong by the way.”

Haruka scoffed, but her eyes met Setsuna’s. “How’s that?”

“Michiru would want to see you. You know her better than you think.”

“And how would you know that?” Haruka asked.

“I have my ways,” Setsuna shrugged with a smirk. Then, after finishing her coffee, she added, more seriously, “You should get back to her.” 

For once, Haruka didn’t argue. Promising Setsuna that she wouldn’t leave the hospital until the police gave the okay, she made her way back through the pristine hospital hallways. 

The room was surprisingly quiet as she opened the door. Minako had, thankfully, disappeared, but Mamoru, Usagi, and Seiya remained, dozing in their chairs. Usagi somehow managed to cling to Mamoru more in her sleep than she did when she was awake, and Seiya looked unnervingly docile. Haruka walked further into the room to find Michiru still awake, gazing at the daffodils Minako had brought, probably for lack of anything better to look at. Then Michiru’s gaze shifted, blue eyes meeting Haruka’s own, and she smiled at her.

_You know her better than you think._ Haruka found Setsuna’s confidence largely unfounded, but the teal-haired woman’s small, unguarded smile now gave her pause.

Haruka made her way to seat closest to Michiru, pulling it closer to allow them to talk to each other without waking the other people in the room.

“Setsuna wishes you a speedy recovery,” Haruka whispered.

“Ah, so that’s who called,” Michiru said. “I must say, you never struck me as the messenger type.”

“Well,” Haruka began. “She wishes you a speedy recovery and I’m here to make sure you stay in bed long enough to make that possible.”

“Hm, I’d like to see you _make_ me." Michiru smirked. “Always a woman of action.” 

Haruka frowned at her, ignoring the tempting curve of her lips. “Well, you’ve been a little _too_ active.” 

Michiru rested her head on her pillow with a sigh, hair fanning out around her. “I was just doing my job, Haruka.”

“I know that,” Haruka clenched her fist, looking down at the superficial cuts on her own arm. “Have you ever gotten hurt like this before?”

“I’m not unfamiliar with hospitals, if that’s what you mean,” Michiru said, turning her gaze to the daffodils again. “I’ve never had so many visitors, though.”

“Not even your parents?”

Michiru gave a quiet, but distinctly hollow, laugh. “They’d wait to berate me until after I was healed and out of the hospital if I was this badly off. But otherwise they’d only show up to see if I could continue my current assignment or not.” Haruka felt her jaw clench, and Michiru must have noticed too, as she added, “It’s fine, we’ve never been close, family business aside. _Strictly professional.”_

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But you _deserve_ better,” Haruka hissed. She ran a hand through her hair, taking a breath to calm herself. “I know you think I don’t know you, but I see how hard you work, how good you are at your job. How much of yourself you put into this it.” She looked back at Michiru, who met her gaze with an impossibly unguarded expression. “But you don’t have to go that far, not for me. Not for anyone. I know this is your job, but to me, what you’re doing it’s… more personal.”

“I wanted to.” 

“Huh?” Haruka faltered. She hadn’t known how she expected Michiru to respond, but it certainly wasn’t with that. Of all the girlfriends she had had, it would of course be her fake one that would cause her the most confusion.

Michiru looked down at her bedsheets, her unencumbered hand gathering the white cotton. “That is… It’s personal for me, too.”

“It is?”

Michiru looked back up at her, eyes shining. “I don’t want it to be. I’m usually better than this. At keeping a distance. It’s what I do best.” She shrugged, almost imperceptibly, as she looked away again. 

“Being personal isn’t a bad thing,” Haruka whispered. 

“That’s not it. Or maybe it is.” The other woman shook her head. “I’ve never had someone care as much as you, or Setsuna. Not for all of me, anyway. Professionally or otherwise. For the first time, I found myself doubting my choices, thinking there may be other options.” She scoffed. “It sounds ridiculous.”

Haruka, at a loss for what to say, loosened the white sheets from Michiru’s hand, interlacing their fingers instead. In the stillness, Haruka could hear Michiru’s breath catch. She rubbed her thumb against the back of Michiru’s hand, and couldn’t help but notice the coolness of her hand, the calluses on her fingers, the way their hands fit so naturally together.

“It’s not ridiculous.” Mouth oddly dry, she said, “I think you could do anything, Michiru.”

“You barely know me, Haruka.” Michiru’s familiar reply came, but her voice now wavered.

“Maybe,” Haruka said, “But the more you tell me about yourself, the more I want to learn.”

Michiru separated their hands, and Haruka felt something in her stomach drop. But Michiru tucked her hair behind her ear, a nervous habit, Haruka noted, and a flush had spread across her cheeks.

“I… We should get some rest. It’s late.”

Haruka looked at the clock in the room and a wave of fatigue hit her as the events of the evening seemed to catch up to her all at once. “I’ll give you that one,” she said. “Do you need any help with your pillows, or...?”

Michiru shook her head. “No. But…Thank you, Haruka.” She didn’t meet her gaze, but Haruka had a feeling she wasn’t just talking about the offer to help with her pillows.

Haruka didn’t know if she deserved that thanks. She wanted to figure out how to say that, to tell Michiru that she deserved _Haruka’s_ thanks.

But the other woman had already closed her eyes, quickly falling asleep. Haruka reached out to pull the blanket up higher over Michiru. Her throat tight, she murmured a soft, “You’re welcome,” before settling back into the hospital chair. Michiru’s face was the last thing she saw before she too, drifted to sleep. 

* * *

The next morning, Michiru woke with a start. She rarely slept well, but the combination of the medications she’d been given and, she had to admit to herself, Haruka’s presence, had made her night in the hospital the most restful she had had in far too long. Haruka, however, was now nowhere to be seen. Michiru was being discharged from the hospital later that morning, so she was at a loss as to why the racer had disappeared. She’d thought Haruka would be at her bedside, ready to go to the track bright and early. 

Michiru was debating leaving by herself or waiting a few more minutes when the door opened and Setsuna entered, carrying a breakfast tray.

“Good morning, Michiru. I managed to get your breakfast from the--”

“Where’s Haruka?”

Setsuna placed the tray down, trying to hand Michiru a tea from a nearby café. “She’s getting ready for the race this afternoon.”

Michiru pointedly ignored the proffered cup. “I’m being discharged this morning, we can leave now, she shouldn’t be alone--”

“Michiru, it’s fine,” Setsuna assured her. “She has her pre-race rituals, we’ll meet her there. You’ve done far more than you need to already.”

MIchiru glowered, but finally took the tea, muttering her thanks. She took a sip before asking another question, mind racing as she shifted back into her work mindset. “Are you sure it’s alright for her to be alone?”

“I thought the same thing.” Setsuna sat down in one of the room’s chairs. “But I’ve made all the necessary arrangements to ensure that Haruka’s bike won’t be accessible to anyone but her before the race. And besides.” She gestured at Michiru’s still bandaged arm, “You aren’t in any condition to protect her. I’d prefer to keep your hospital visits to a minimum.”

Michiru drank her tea, at a loss for what to say. She’d had employers who cared about her, sure, but only so far as she could be of immediate use to them. And, thinking back to her conversation with Haruka, her parents weren’t exactly supportive, even if she was one of their best assets. If she had been injured like this on any other assignment, she would have been tossed aside by now. Much like her current charge, her current employer was also full of surprises. 

Having spoken with Setsuna throughout her mission, and especially after her injuries, Michiru thought she understood why. Setsuna genuinely cared about who she worked with. Even when she seemed distant, she was always working to protect her own. Without knowing when or how or it happened, Michiru was now counted among them. Michiru admired that about the woman.

The two fell into a comfortable silence, as Michiru drank her tea and forced the hospital breakfast down. The silence didn’t last long.

“What are you two doing??” Setsuna and Michiru turned to see Minako, hair wild, standing in the open doorway. She was dressed in one of her sharper skirt suits, this one a mint green, collar and ascot each slightly askew.

“Minako, what--” Setsuna began.

“No time for small talk!” Minako cut her off, bounding into the room to stand between Setsuna and Michiru. “While you all have been sleeping, I’ve been hard at work. I took some of your suggestions, Setsuna, and combined them with my own investigative instinct.” Michiru looked over at Setsuna, bewildered, but her employer’s attention was entirely focused on the blonde, who continued to plunge forward, hands waving wildly as she spoke. “I scoured race footage, talked to cops, interviewed some rather grumpy mechanics, but in the end, I have always been led back to one person: Eugeal!”

“Eugeal, of course,” Setsuna rose, brow furrowed. “I had considered her, certainly, but I never thought she would go this far.”

Michiru’s own mind raced, as every interaction she had had with Eugeal replayed in her mind. Sure, she had thought the woman suspicious, but to do something of this magnitude… Michiru had never thought the realm of racing would be so fraught with conspiracy. Then again, she thought wryly, Haruka tended to be a bit of a wild card when it came to anything that had potential for drama. At the thought of Haruka, her stomach twisted anxiously, and she found herself meeting Setsuna’s own worried gaze. 

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Minako said, gesturing wildly. “We have a nefarious plot to stop and a star racer to save! Let’s go!”


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actual note vivelarepublique gave me when editing this chapter, "I feel like that's a safety hazard."  
> me: "shhh, it's for dramatic effect."
> 
> Anyway, I go full Fast & Furious on this episode and vivelarepublique is sighing somewhere in Japan right now. 
> 
> This technically is the conclusion, but there might be a secret epilogue coming eventually... in the meantime, enjoy and have fun! Thank you to everyone who has been reading along and left comments/kudos; we see you and appreciate you!!

Guilt had settled somewhere in her stomach the moment Haruka arrived at the track, tightening her limbs and grabbing her by the throat. She had left Michiru early that morning at the hospital, unable to face speaking with her before the race. Haruka was  _ certain  _ Michiru would have tried to stop her from going. 

“EVERYONE! WELCOME TO THE FINALE OF THE JAPAN ROAD RACE CHAMPIONSHIP!”

The crowd roared, sending deep vibrations into Haruka’s body, adrenaline smoothing over guilt. She placed a hand on her bike, the cool metal grounding her. She’d double, triple, and quadruple-checked the machine. Not letting anyone else touch it was one of Setsuna’s orders she’d been more than willing to obey. The bike was an extension of herself, and she wasn’t about to let anyone mess with it, mess with  _ her, _ before this race. 

The announcer’s voice rang out again through the stadium and Haruka let out a long breath before she put on her helmet, gripped the handles of her motorcycle and walked it out onto the track.

_ Go with the wind. _ This was Haruka’s prayer that she repeated to herself again and again, as she now stood next to her fellow racers facing the crowd.  _ Go with the wind.  _ The wind feared nothing, wanted for nothing, and believed in only one thing: moving forward. With the wind, Haruka left all her attachments behind. 

A flash of teal hair sprung to mind, but even that, she had to put aside. 

_ Go with the wind.  _

A gust of sea breeze seemed to hit her. “Haruka!” Haruka blinked, but sure enough, Michiru was standing in front of her, face flushed, as if she’d been running. 

“Michiru? What are you doing here?” Haruka looked at Michiru’s still bandaged arm. “You should be resting.”

“What kind of a girlfriend would I be if I didn’t wish my partner luck before her big race?” Michiru had what Haruka could only call a wistful smile on her face as she drew close to her, placing a kiss above the face shield of her helmet, unbandaged hand light on Haruka’s shoulder. Haruka was (more or less) accustomed to Michiru’s flirting by now, but something about this seemed… different.  

The adrenaline seemed to buzz in Haruka’s ears. “You’re not just here to wish me luck are you?” she asked.

Michiru smiled wryly. “How’d you guess?” 

“Guess I just know you that well,” Haruka said, and she didn’t think the flush on Michiru’s face was just from running now. The two gazed at each other, and they were  _ so close _ , Haruka could see the flickers of grey in Michiru’s eyes, the light speckling of freckles that shined with the sun. If she leaned down-- 

The guilt and the adrenaline seemed to drain out of Haruka, replaced by an eerie sense of calm. 

Michiru cleared her throat. “Listen closely.” She beckoned Haruka away from the other racers, dropping her voice low. “Eugeal’s been behind this the entire time.”

Okay. Not what she was expecting. “Eugeal?” said Haruka. “ _ Eugeal.  _ The same racer that once told me she couldn’t kill a worm, because it ‘grossed her out.’  _ That  _ Eugeal?”

Michiru failed to see the humor of the situation. “Would I lie about this?’ 

“No, I guess not.” And then Haruka realized something else-- if it was Eugeal who had done all this, then it was her fellow racer that had injured both Michiru  _ and  _ her bike. For some reason, that made her blood boil more than the idea Eugeal was clearly trying to kill her.

(Her priorities were possibly a little skewed, but Haruka found she didn’t care about that right now).

“Forget the cops.” Haruka clenched her fist, staring directly at Eugeal’s slight form. “I’ll run her over right now with my motorcycle.”

“No,” Michiru’s hand tightened on Haruka’s shoulders, forestalling any more murderous thoughts. “We can’t have you end up in jail too. Setsuna and Minako already have a plan. All you have to do is race and make it to the finish line.” 

So she was completely being taken out of the action. Haruka swore under her breath, wishing she could just go and punch Eugeal  _ now _ . 

She tore her eyes away from the other racer, only to see Michiru still staring at her, eyes glittering in the midday sun. She had to trust that Michiru and Setsuna knew what they were doing. 

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “She’ll be far behind me,” Haruka said, thankful for her helmet hiding the growing blush on her face under Michiru’s intense gaze.

“She’d better be.” Michiru, seemed to consider saying something more, but instead simply placed her right hand on the side of Haruka’s helmet. “I’ll see you at the finish line.”

“On the awards podium,” Haruka corrected.

Michiru let out a laugh at that, the sound warming Haruka to her core. “I’ll see you at the awards podium, then.”

“Oi, racers only!” A voice called out from behind them. Seiya stood by her own bike, hand on her hip, looking pointedly at Michiru. “Not to mention, I’ve had enough of you two flirting to last a lifetime.”

“I think you just mentioned it,” Haruka said dryly. 

“I do need to get to my seat. Setsuna will be wondering where I am,” Michiru said. With a wave, she retreated back toward the stands. Haruka could feel the absence of her touch on the shoulder where her hand had been.

Haruka opened her mouth, a part of her wanting to call out, to say something, unsure exactly what that  _ something _ was. Instead, she closed it decisively.  _ After.  _ What then, she didn’t know yet, but the steady pounding of her heart assured her she would find out. 

“I want you focused for this race, Tenoh,” Seiya said as Michiru drew away from view. “I want you to fully experience me beating you for a fourth time.”

Brought back into the present, Haruka felt a familiar spike of anger surge through her at Seiya’s taunt. “Oh believe me, I’ll be focused enough to appreciate the stupid look on your face in my mirror as I fly over the finish line.”

“Please, the only thing you’ll be appreciating is my back as I  _ pass  _ you,” Seiya said. 

Haruka laughed–with all that had happened over the past few days, this at least felt normal. 

The horn signaling two minutes before the race blared, the sound settling in Haruka’s chest. As the racers began to walk their bikes to the start line, she could feel her blood pumping. She grinned. This was where everything made sense. 

The announcer began introducing them, but she barely heard anything as she swung her right leg over her bike, feeling steadier than she had the entire week. 

Then she glanced to her right and nearly threw herself from her bike. Closer than before-- _as_ _close as she was going to get_ \--was Eugeal in her characteristic red jumpsuit, hair neatly tucked away. 

The second horn sounded, and the referee walked out with a mic: “Racers, START. YOUR. ENGINES!”

The crowd’s cheer was deafening. Haruka flipped her keys in unison with the others, engine rumbling to life underneath her. She could feel Eugeal’s stare from two racers over; next to her, Seiya’s entire body vibrated with enough energy to run another two motorcycles. But Haruka felt oddly calm, despite knowing that she was about to race against someone that had nearly killed her just the other night. 

_ Go with the wind.  _ In this moment, nothing mattered but the race, she decided. 

The third horn sounded—Haruka slammed her foot on the accelerator, clutching the handles, her only life-line on the track. And then they were off, speeding away in a blur. Haruka urged her bike just a bit faster, a  _ little  _ more, and  _ there— _ she peeled away from the front, the track in full view now. 

Everything faded away and things seemed to go silent. The only thing Haruka knew now was the track and the wind pushing alongside her body, urging her forward.  For a moment it felt like she was literally flying, the motorcycle’s thrum her only tie to the Earth.

Her peace was not to last. A second bike pulled right up next to her _ — _ Seiya Kou’s long black hair flew behind her, and though Haruka couldn’t see the other racer’s expression behind the helmet, she could imagine it far too easily. That awful,  _ arrogant _ smirk.  

Seiya jerked her head forward in a challenging gesture.  

Despite how fast the two were going, time seemed to slow in-between them. Perhaps, in retrospect, Haruka could have been less distracted. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so focused on beating  _ Seiya _ specifically-- after all, this was about  _ the race _ and  _ speed _ , not about first place. But after the week she’d had, she just wanted this one thing to go right. Just one. 

Seiya and Haruka stayed neck-and-neck, and for those blissful seconds, where it was just the two of them, Haruka’s thoughts disappeared and all was as it should. 

Naturally,  it all went wrong from there.

Seiya would later tease Haruka about how wide her mouth had gone, the fact that  _ oh, you actually cared about me?  _ But in that moment, all Haruka saw was Seiya’s tire blowing out and the absolute indignation that spread across her face as she was forced to a stop. For one split second, Haruka thought it was some karmic force telling her she had dealt with enough this week.

She regretted that thought—this wasn’t how Haruka liked to win. That was when a second motorcycle slammed into her. 

“Holy—!” Haruka barely managed to right her bike as Eugeal collided directly with her. Distantly, she could hear the announcer crying  _ foul!  _ and the referees blowing their horns. But neither Haruka nor Eugeal stopped. 

Well if that’s how she wanted to play this, Haruka would play! Haruka released a snarl, grinning despite herself, and revved her motorcycle faster. The two rounded the corner, the metal gears of the bike grinding against each other, the screeching of tires filling Haruka’s ears. Eugeal relentlessly kept pace, just short of overtaking her.

Finally, Eugeal must have decided she had enough and fell back. Or so, Haruka thought. 

That was when Haruka’s world was enveloped in  smoke as her engine spat out a burst of flames. 

In that moment, Haruka didn’t think about her potential impending death. No, Haruka mourned how much this week sucked. First she lost to Seiya, twice. Someone  _ shot _ at her. And she had spent the entire week falling for someone who was completely  _ impossible _ . 

There was no way she was letting Eugeal win this. 

(Besides, she had told Michiru she would meet her on the other side of the finish line. And Haruka didn’t break her promises.) 

In what would be the dumbest decision of her entire life, Haruka ignored the smoke of her engine and slammed her foot on the accelerator. The flames roared in front of her—a bad sign—but Haruka pressed on. The flames flew back at Haruka, and she knew she shouldn’t be breathing in smoke  _ again _ .

Michiru was going to be so mad at Haruka if she lived through this. 

Setsuna might actually kill her. 

Maybe Minako would write her a great obituary.  _ HARUKA TENOH FLAMES OUT AT 25. _ Actually, that was pretty good. Maybe she should have gone into journalism, not racing. 

On second thought, that was probably just the lack of oxygen talking. 

But none of that mattered when she caught up to Eugeal. Haruka nearly cackled when she saw her. It was then that she pulled a page out of Eugeal’s own book, slamming straight into Eugeal’s motorcycle. The redhead cried out, and Haruka could  _ just  _ hear her swears over the sputtering engine.

_ “That’s for Michiru!”  _ Haruka cried. 

“Are you crazy?” Eugeal shouted, trying to detach her bike. “How are you even still riding that thing?”

“You tried to kill us!” 

“Only slightly maim!”

“How is that any  _ better _ ?”

Eugeal’s eyes widened. “What’s that smell?”

 

Not the answer Haruka was expecting. Still she had to admit. Something was—

 

“Oh shit.”

 

The two dove off their motorcycles just as Haruka’s finally gave way, bursting into even greater flame. 

 

Haruka hit the rubble just as the bike exploded. 

 

Stunned, Haruka only had one thought:  _ at least she made it past the finish line.  _

 

A gun cocked in her face immediately derailed that thought. 

 

“Eugeal,” Haruka greeted. 

 

Eugeal let out a wordless snarl. “I’m not sure what I’m more mad about, Haruka—the fact that you singed my hair or the fact that you  _ still. Won. _ ”

 

“Both seem like perfectly good reasons to kill me,” said Haruka, pretty goodnaturedly for someone with a gun in their face, if she did say so herself. “You know the entire stadium can see this, right? Setsuna has a police brigade _waiting to_ take you down. It’s over.”

Eugeal’s mouth twisted. “Then this won’t hurt me anyway.” 

“I think a life sentence for having a gun and for killing someone would hurt you pretty badly,” said Haruka. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see a flash of movement.

Eugeal was undeterred. “I could always take you hostage—who can even stop me if the police aren’t here yet?” 

“Her,” said Haruka cheerfully.

Michiru’s fist slammed into the back of Eugeal’s head. With a swift knee to her stomach and elbow to her right arm, Eugeal was disarmed, and restrained with zip ties that Michiru just  _ magically  _ materialized from her dress.  

Okay, now that. That was  _ hot.  _

Michiru quickly abandoned Eugeal’s prone form to the frantically approaching police officers and knelt beside Haruka. “Haruka!” she cried, teal hair falling around her face. Haruka could get used to this. “Are you okay?”

Haruka didn’t have any words to say how happy she was to see her. Instead, she lifted her aching body up, pulled off her helmet, grasped Michiru’s face, and kissed her. 

If Michiru seemed to freeze, it was only for a fraction of a second, before she melted into the kiss, her good hand going to the hair on the back of Haruka’s neck, holding her as if Haruka would break at any moment. Haruka’s head was spinning: she was drowning in Michiru, and of all ways to go, and she had had  _ many _ options this week, this would be the one she’d choose every time.

But apparently, it wasn’t yet her time, as the two broke apart and the world rushed back around her as the air flooded her lungs: the sirens, the chatter, the flash of cameras, the smoke from her still smoldering bike. Michiru’s face, a shade of pink that Haruka hadn’t yet seen. 

“Was that for our cover story?” Michiru asked, breathlessly. 

Haruka choked out a laugh. “No, definitely not,” she said, voice hoarse. “Michiru—I—” She broke off coughing again. Damn it! Couldn’t she just have this  _ one _ moment?

Michiru laughed, hand still cradling the back of Haruka’s head. “I know,” she said. 

“Romance! Violence! Racing! It’s like a movie!” Minako wept with joy to one of the police officers she was standing with. 

“Minako, how could you say that, Haruka almost DIED!” Usagi wailed.

It was a testament to how loud their voices were that Haruka could hear them over the clamour. Frankly, she didn’t care—she reached blindly for Michiru’s good hand. 

“Well this’ll make the front page,” Haruka said, feeling rather inane. “Setsuna will be pleased.”

“I doubt it,” Michiru said, dryly, nodding to their right. Despite the slight pain in her torso, Haruka pushed herself up enough in time to see Setsuna descending down among them, dispelling photographers, pushing a wailing Usagi into Mamoru’s arms, and throwing a notepad and a handkerchief into Minako’s hands (this apparently was enough to remind Minako that she had a story to write). 

Setsuna’s face was stormy when she finally reached Michiru and Haruka, eyes sweeping back and forth between them. To Haruka’s surprise, they landed first on Michiru. “I see that you elected to fight Eugeal on your own. Unarmed. With a broken arm,” she said.

Haruka bit back a giggle as Michiru floundered a bit. “Well, I—” Michiru started, but Setsuna’s eyes snapped to Haruka next.

“And you.” Haruka swallowed. Setsuna’s voice was deadly quiet, heels silent as they brought her further down the smoking track. “Driving on a burning motorcycle. What were you thinking?”

“Uh… winning?” Haruka said weakly.

Setsuna sighed deeply, crossing her arms and hanging her head. “Well, at least you’re okay,” she said. “But when I said I wanted to keep hospital visits to a minimum, I didn’t mean one for each of you.”  At that, Haruka grinned sheepishly and Michiru flushed. “But I’m glad both of you are safe.”

Haruka swore she saw the hint a smile at the corner of Setsuna’s lips, but the woman turned from them as one of the ever-increasing amount of police officers caught her attention, to ask about her uncovering of Eugeal’s sabotage, no doubt. 

Setsuna gone, the paramedics finally swooped in, but before Haruka could protest, she was distracted by the firm grip of Michiru’s hand in hers. She almost hadn’t realized they’d been  holding hands; as she met the other woman’s gaze, all words escaped her. Michiru’s expression was stern to be sure, but something warm glittered in her eyes, something she hadn’t let show before.

“Don’t think for a moment that I’ll let you out of my sight,” Michiru said, eyes never leaving Haruka’s even as she felt herself getting lifted onto a stretcher, the warmth of Michiru’s hand gone from hers. 

“You’re gonna see this job through to the end, aren’t you?” Haruka said wryly, a nagging doubt twisting in her stomach as she said it.  _ Duty, that was all it was, wasn’t it? _ The paramedics pushed her towards the nearby ambulance, but Michiru kept stride with them, her good arm clutching to one of the stretcher’s handles. It wasn’t until they were in the ambulance itself that Michiru was able to lean down, curls tickling the side of Haruka’s face as she whispered her reply.

“The only duty I’m following right now is to my own.” As if to wipe away any of Haruka’s remaining worries, Michiru placed a soft kiss to Haruka’s cheek. Haruka closed her eyes at the same time; as a light breeze swept through the ambulance doors.  As the doors closed fully, Haruka grabbed Michiru’s hand one more time, and despite the hole in her stomach, Michiru’s broken arm, and Haruka’s broken motorcycle, she had the sense that they were driving somewhere, better, together.


End file.
